Friday Fragments

It's Friday!

1) And it's my last spring break ever! I love spring break. It means the semester is halfway over, and the rest of the semester tends to go by so fast it gives you whiplash. My friend Kirstin and I are so excited for this one because it means we are PRACTICALLY GRADUATED. Woohoo!

2) Tomorrow night, our youth group is having its annual spaghetti dinner and variety show (I wrote most of the show. So yeah. :D) It's a fundraiser for our summer trip to Christ's Outreach for the Blind. And it's going to be so much fun.

3) I was listening to "If You Wanna, I Might" by hellogoodbye earlier and slowly realized that it's not a love song. It's a song about the query process! Pay attention to the lyrics and think about it:



So... that's all I got for today. Have a good weekend!

Rewriting as a Destructive Force

There's this one story I've been working on since December 2006. First it was called Fine Line, then it was called At The Swing Set, then it was back to Fine Line, now it's Hating Keiran Holmes. I have been to hell and back with this beast. It took until April 2008 just to finish the first draft. I've lost count of how many revisions it's gone through since then.

Spot the difference:

(17-year-old-me who didn't know what the flip she was doing)

She hated him. She hated the way his black hair looked all shiny and soft and flipped whenever he turned to look at her. She hated how deep his dark green eyes were, and the little specks of gold that were in them. She hated the way he winked at her and his stupid lopsided grin. She hated it when the other girls would start giggling all over him, like he was some sort of celebrity to be giggled over and ogled at. And she especially hated it when the big idiot was nice to her!

(21-year-old-me who still doesn't know what the flip she's doing)

Caomhe thought she deserved a gold medal for not screaming when she found out Keiran was her biology lab partner. But she couldn’t say she didn’t share Keiran’s sentiment of, “No! Please, if you love us, no!”
The class laughed. Most of them had an awareness of Keiran and Caomhe’s five-year feud. Caomhe looked over at Fiona, who surely would empathize with her. Fiona struggled to contain her snickers. Caomhe glared at her. Some best friend.

So yeah. Big, dramatic changes in the last four-odd years. Then around the end of last year, I started thinking, "Wait. What if all this neurotic editing is just undoing things that are working in the story?" THAT... is what I like to call the Rewriting Cycle of Death. Like this:

1) Write first draft.
2) Edit the draft.
3) Repeat steps two and three to the point where none of the original manuscript remains.
4) Realize you have a whole new first draft.

At this point, I see two options. Recognize that you're being insane, even for a writer, or you can repeat steps two and three until they check you into the [mental] hospital.

Moral of the day: there is such thing as too much of a good thing. Even edits.

"Don't ever interrupt me while I'm reading a book!"

(I don't actually have time for a proper blog post. Too much homework, and trying to do rewrites on a story.)

This is really funny, though. And yes, reading does make you totally gangsta now.

Friday Fragments

Which means that because I'm too lazy to dedicate a blog post to one subject, I'll dedicate it to MANY!

1) Well, in case you haven't heard the tragic news, Borders is filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, which I just learned a few seconds ago (see this post) means they're reorganizing the company. Still, it's sad how they're closing 200 more stores.

2) I am not already planning for NaNoWriMo. I can't help it! When you're waiting for class to start, there's not a whole lot to do...

3) Remember a few weeks ago how the Midwest was in the midst of THE winter storm?

(At the end, I said, "But wait! You haven't seen the backyard!" It was pretty much the same and boring.)

Well, check this out.

It is like that everywhere. It's like, Snow? What snow?


4) Fun thing to do with Facebook. (Plundered it from Erin at Quitting My Day Job. :D) First, go to Facebook. Then, copy the following code into the address bar.
javascript:(function(){fcb=function(d){ktndata=d;var p=document.getElementsByTagName('img');for(var i in p){p[i].width=p[i].width;p[i].height=p[i].height;p[i].src=d.items[Math.floor(Math.random()*(d.items.length))].media.m;}};if(typeof ktndata=='undefined'){var jp=document.createElement('script');jp.setAttribute('type','text/javascript'); jp.setAttribute('src','http://api.flickr.com/services/feeds/photos_public.gne? tags=kitten&tagmode=any&format=json&jsoncallback=fcb'); document.getElementsByTagName('head')[0].appendChild(jp);} else{fcb(ktndata);}})()
Don't worry, it's harmless. To "fix" it, just go to your profile and all will be restored. (Also, you can do this with any website with pictures.)

5) Quote from class last night.
Teacher: "But actually, the first six months of a relationship are comparable to being mentally unstable."*
Me to Kirstin: (Quietly) "That explains Twilight."
Kirstin: (Collapses in laughter)
*It was something like that.

OK. I'll do a proper post on Monday. Since that seems to be my blogging schedule now. M/W/F. :) Have a good weekend, everybody!

WDIST Syndrome*

*Why Did I Submit This Syndrome. Allow me to explain.

There's this class at school that I desperately want to take next semester. It's called the New Play Project. It's basically a collaboration between the Creative Writing students and the Theater students. This year, it'll be focused on creating a serial show.

I REALLY WANT IN THIS CLASS. But to get in it, you had to send a 10-60 page script to the professor and also tell him about your background in theater. So I polished up a piece that I wrote a little over a year ago (Peace, Love, Untied Sneakers), and sent it off last night. I also made a big, fat deal of my two years of a high school playwriting class because, as mentioned before, I REALLY WANT IN THIS CLASS.

So immediately after I hit Send, I thought, "WHY DID I JUST SEND THAT PIECE OF CRAP. It is awful! It wasn't ready! I am an iiiiiiiiidiot!" That is WDIST Syndrome.

(This is why I haven't started querying for any of my stories: fear that I will have a nervous breakdown.)

But today I got an email from the professor saying that it sounded good and he'll be in touch after break. So around March 7.

Here's hoping. *Fingers crossed*

Book Review: Geektastic

First of all, happy It-Is-Practically-Spring Day. No joke. It reached 45 degrees today. So beautiful!

Now onto the review.

Geektastic is an anthology of geeky short stories, so it's hard to review it as one unit. There are fantastic stories, there are good stories, there are not-so-good stories. Overall, I would say the good and fantastic stories outweigh the not-so-good ones by a lot. There are also geek-themed comics in between the stories, and those are pretty funny. What really stood out to me was how most of the stories were about the geek or the nerd getting the object of their affections or getting together with someone. I mentioned in the Matched review that I usually can barely tolerate romance. But most of these authors handled the romantic elements brilliantly in a non-annoying, and admittedly entertaining fashion.

I promise I'm a girl. :)

So. Here are my thoughts on the stories that really stood out, at least to me. (I'll keep it brief.)

Definitional Chaos by Scott Westerfield
The whole thing is pretty much a TV Tropes story about your moral alignment (see this page for details. I'm neutral good. :D). What I really liked about it was how it kind of blurred the lines between reality and fantasy, somewhat. It's kind of hard to describe. Also, it was one of the few stories where the guy and girl did not get together! Refreshing. It's pretty intense (especially by the end), but pretty brilliant.

I Never by Cassandra Clare
What I really like about this is that it's about Internet fandom and online role playing, something which I'm sure a lot of us are familiar with (admit it), and the main character doesn't really identify as a geek. But then she finds a way to fit in with the others, and it's really a charming piece. I'm not doing it justice. The only con? I kept losing the Game. :/ By the way... I lost the Game.

Quiz Bowl Antichrist by David Levithan
This guy was so pandering to us book geeks. And I happily bought into it. You would have, too. It had everything that makes a story great. The main character had a tragic flaw, he had character development, there were hilarious moments, there were serious moments, there were sweet moments. It was perfect.

Secret Identity by Kelly Link
When I started reading this story, I got the creeps because of the speaker's tone. It freaked me the heck out, but I couldn't stop reading. As the story went on, it became clear that this was not just about fandom or conventions or anything else like that. It was an origin story. Like for a superhero. Once I realized that, it got much more epic. But I am still creeped by the repetition of "Paul Zell, dear Paul Zell" at the beginning.

Freak the Geek by John Green
I love this story because I can kind of see this happening at a larger school, and because the two girls in here remind me of my best friends. We are all such geeks. Anyway. What is really great about the story is that there's a lot of conflict, first between the two friends and the popular kids who are after them; second between the two friends. It's really fantastic and touching without being overly emotional.

This Is My Audition Monologue by Sara Zarr
This is the one I keep reading over and over again. I'm going to need a whole post to explain why this story is amazing. I might need to do a dramatic reading, I love this story so much. It's incredible. You know those stories where you just totally, completely identify with the main character? This was that story for me.
It is perfect. Everything is wonderful. I need a full post for this story.
Just read this part at the end:

The fact that I'm even here auditioning after what happened and the role I played in it just proves that I know the basic truth of plays and of life: that the show must go on. Even when it's hard to watch the show going on without you.
I'll take any part, I will, and if it's Onlooker #8 I will be the best Onlooker #8 this town has ever seen. But if you can't find a part for me I'm going to walk away. I'm not going to hang around in the shadows anymore. This time you'll remember my name.

OK. Those are like, half the stories. That should tell you something about this book. :)

I am totally doing a dramatic reading of This Is My Audition Monologue.

"So what's your major?" "Creative Writing." "Ohhhh."

You know those people.

--

"So you’re a student, huh?"
"Yeah, over at Western."
"What’s your major?"
"Creative Writing."
"Ohhhh. How interesting." Read: "Ohhh. You have no chance of ever making it in this world."
"Yeah, it's a lot of fun." Read: "You and I have very different definitions of 'making it'."
"So what kind of things do you write?" Read: "If you were a writer."
"Oh, sci-fi, fantasy, mostly speculative fiction. That sorta thing." Read: "I am a writer, and you are some random stranger who has no idea what I'm capable of."
"Are you ever going to write a book someday?" Read: "You probably haven't even attempted to write an actual book."
"Actually, I've written three." Read: "I've written three. Wench."

--

Paraphrased from an actual conversation.


Moral of the story? Don't let the cynics get you down. Never stop writing. Never stop doing what you love.

I call this picture Good and Evil.

Guess who's good and who's evil.

(Sorry about the quality; it's a cell phone picture.)

Editing scripts while sleep-deprived: A brief look.

Script:

CHESTER
I used to be a Mountie, I'll have you know. That is...
(Looks haunted)
Before the Summer of the Squirrel Moose.
(He slowly puts his hands over his face, breathing heavily. The others just stare at him.)

ASHLEY
Sorry. Sometimes he has Squirrel Moose flashbacks.

TESSA
I'm sorry, but... what in the name of sanity is a squirrel moose?

ASHLEY
Half squirrel, half moose.

CHESTER
(In a dark voice)
All deadly.

Meanwhile, this whole time I've been giggling like mad. And, like I usually do when I'm overtired, I decide to bother my mother.


Me: Mom! Mooom! In the play, there's a Squirrel Moose!
Mom: *At a loss for words*
Me: It's half squirrel, half moose. All. Deadly.
Mom: *Sighs*

Book Review: Matched

OK, so I'm not doing a vlog this time around. Don't know where my camera is.

I'd like to start by saying that I thought this book was going to be like The Giver meets The Hunger Games plus some romance. I was... kind of right. It's more like this:

I was not prepared for this. I had just finished reading Thirteen Reasons Why. (Reading binge) Add to the fact that I have a low tolerance threshold for lovey-dovey stuff (no offense), and... *sigh* I was so, so not prepared for this.

OK. So here's the summary from GoodReads:

Cassia has always trusted the Society to make the right choices for her: what to read, what to watch, what to believe. So when Xander's face appears on-screen at her Matching ceremony, Cassia knows with complete certainty that he is her ideal mate . . . until she sees Ky Markham's face flash for an instant before the screen fades to black.

The Society tells her it's a glitch, a rare malfunction, and that she should focus on the happy life she's destined to lead with Xander. But Cassia can't stop thinking about Ky, and as they slowly fall in love, Cassia begins to doubt the Society's infallibility and is faced with an impossible choice: between Xander and Ky, between the only life she's known and a path that no one else has dared to follow.

If you're in it for the love plot? It's pretty good. It's got a love triangle - no idea why love triangles are so popular these days, and why is it always two guys after one girl? - but it's pretty well done. It didn't really get on my nerves too much (except for the confession of love, but those almost always annoy me). And although I absolutely hate the cliche that if a guy and a girl are best friends, they must fall in love, Matched had a pretty good subversion with that.

If you're in it (like I was) for everything besides the romance? It's OK. It's not perfect by far, but it's OK. Through most of the book, I wanted to smack Cassia because it was so obvious that their government is evil, and she's just like:

OK, look. I'm fine with characters who trust their evil governments. Like in The Giver. I ADORE The Giver, and Jonas trusts his evil government through a lot of the book until he slowly finds out the truth about the world. But Cassia... *sigh* she can be really stupid. Sometimes she'll start thinking that maaaybe something's not quite right (and I'm like, NO, REALLY?!), but then she'll go right back to complete trust in the government. And that's stupid for any civilization, if you ask me. *Cough* But not getting political, this is so sad because she can also be really intelligent and a deep thinker, and... I dunno. I just don't know what to make of this chick.

So why did I keep reading? Because the other characters were clearly not like that. Cassia's mom, for example. There was a missed moment of awesome that I hope Allie Condie will make up for in the next book. Cassia's mom had to leave for a while, and (no spoilers) something went wrong and she started getting really nervous that her family was being punished because of her. And I was like, Whoa, what happened? Because it was obviously pretty big, and I wish we could have seen it properly. But after that, Cassia's parents obviously don't have a lot of trust in their government- and they WORK for them! Ha.

Now. Concerning the perspective and prose. It's in first person, and I kinda wish it were in third person omniscient because then we could see a lot more going on and we wouldn't miss out all the time on some really cool characters. But the prose. Oh my word. It is beautiful. You need to read some of this, you guys.

Now that I've found the way to fly, which direction should I go into the night? My wings aren't white or feathered; they're green, made of green silk, which shudders in the wind and bends when I move - first in a circle, then in a line, finally in a shape of my own invention. The black behind me doesn't worry me; neither do the stars ahead.

 I smile at myself, at the foolishness of my imagination. People cannot fly, though before the Society, there were myths about those who could. I saw a painting of them once. White wings, blue sky, gold circles about their heads, eyes turned up in surprised as though they couldn't believe what the artists had painted them doing, couldn't believe that their feet didn't touch the ground.

That's just off the first page. And it only gets better.

It's no Hunger Games, but you know what? It's way better than Twilight. (There, I said it, go ahead and yell at me.)

It's not a bad book. I'm being harder on it than I should because it's clear that the love story is at the forefront (at least during this one; I don't know about the next two books) (oh yeah, by the way, this is a trilogy, apparently). So basically, only check out this book if you're into romance with other stuff going on. Or if you're like, in that kind of mood.

SNOWMAGEDDON.

For those just tuning in, THIS IS THE STORM OF THE EVER-LOVIN' CENTURY. Two inches of snow per hour. People are stuck on LSD.*

*Lake Shore Drive. Why, what did you think I meant?**
**Kidding. And yes, the newscasters seriously called it that.

Why am I blogging about this? Because it's either this or homework.

Creative Writing Awards.

People outside Michigan wouldn't know it, but WMU is really artsy. Name your art. There's a major for that. Aha.

So there are these Creative Writing Awards held for the writer-type students with four categories (Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, and Drama). I didn't have enough time to whip any of my stories or plays into shape, so I turned in a nonfiction piece about the time I went to the ER. It's a really funny story. And here it is if you would like to read it.

--

I would hate having epilepsy if my seizures weren’t so hilarious. I either have myoclonic seizures, which are basically twitches with flair, or absence seizures. I can’t remember having absence seizures, so I don’t know what those are like.

After I was diagnosed in 2005, my brain refused to cooperate with the various medications. Keppra had me swinging moods every ten minutes. Topamax tried so hard to keep the seizures under control. The key word there was “tried”. Around the time I started KVCC in 2007, Dr. Fain switched me again to Lamictal. For a month or so, things went brilliantly. It didn’t screw around with my moods and I stopped “spazzing out”.

Then one night in late September, I stayed up until one in the morning, which would not have been a big deal if my alarm weren’t set for 7 AM, and if lack of proper sleep weren’t one of my triggers.

I woke up the next morning with a dull headache and the feeling that sparks were flying in my head. This was normal – just an aura warning me that if I didn’t take my meds soon, I was about to spazz out.

I took my medication with some difficulty because my hands kept shaking, and expected that to be the end of it. But not today, oh no, not today, because I was stupid and deprived myself of sleep. In fairness, I really expected the seizures to stop by the time I got out of my first class.

This did not happen, of course. I had a few small seizures during English, but kept fidgeting so people wouldn’t notice. They’re going to stop soon, I kept thinking. Just keep calm and stay focused on something. When I got out of my seat as class ended, my knees buckled. I caught the table just before I fell, and nobody had seen it happen.

That’s when I started to realize that my seizures weren’t screwing around.

Because I was stupid and too stubborn to admit that something was horribly wrong with my head, I went to the cafeteria to finish some math homework. There were three hours until my next class and I figured that this would all be over by then. There was just one problem. I couldn’t do my math homework because my hands kept shaking. I was literally unable to form a legible letter or number. I could handle falling out of chairs, but not being able to carry out a task that basic terrified me.

After a few more pathetic attempts at writing, I gave up and did the only thing I could do. I stared at my math homework and willed it to finish itself. I tried this for a couple minutes before my best friend Kassy walked up. I must have looked like I was about to burst out crying (which was true) because she asked what was wrong.

“I can’t do my homework because I keep having seizures…”

Kassy stared at me for a moment. “What?”

So I explained what had been happening. When Kassy asked me why I was even at school, I used the sad excuse that, “I thought they would go away!” We called my mom, who said that if the seizures didn’t stop within fifteen minutes, then I had to go to the emergency room.

The seizures seemed to take that as a challenge. Instead of “Cut it out,” they heard, “I wonder how many times I can spazz out in a minute!” When I started having seizures every two seconds – literally – it was obvious that it was time to go to the emergency room.

Kassy found her cousin to drive us there, seeing as someone needed to keep an eye on me in case I had a grand mal seizure. It should have taken us twenty minutes to get to Bronson’s emergency room. With Danielle, it took us fifteen, and that was only because none of us were that familiar with the maze of one-way streets.

When we found the emergency room, Danielle dropped Kassy and me off at the door while she parked. I stumbled in and found that I didn’t really know what to say to the nurse at the front desk except, “I keep having seizures.”

It was admirable how the nurse managed to look so bored. “OK. Can I get your name and information?” she asked. After we had gone through the ER niceties, they put me in a wheelchair and had us wait for ten minutes or so. I started to relax because I wasn’t having seizures every few seconds, and because it was obvious that I was not going to make it to math class.

Another nurse came to wheel me to one of the rooms. He asked me some general questions about the seizures as we weaved through the hallways before we stopped at one room in the boonies of the ER. The bed was set up with side rails to keep me from falling. As I started to get out of the wheelchair, my knees buckled again, but I caught myself on the bed. After the nurses made sure I wasn’t dead, they told me to change into one of those horrible hospital gowns.

Those things are tricky. There is no indication which side is the front, and you have to tie it shut. The whole time I tried to figure it out, I wondered why they didn’t just make one that you could slip over your head. It would make much more sense.

My parents showed up after I had been there for a half hour or so. They tried their best to act like the whole thing wasn’t freaking them out. Kassy and Danielle left to get food, and Kassy promised to get me a donut. Donuts are good.

I was still having seizures too frequently for their liking, so they decided that the best thing to do was to give me a shot of Adavan. Like most rational people, I hate shots. When they said that it was also a pill, I had to protest. “Why can’t I have the pill?”

But they wouldn’t let me have the pill because “Pills don’t work as quickly.” I was ready to call shenanigans on the whole thing, except that made sense.

The needle required for the Adavan was roughly the size of the Empire State Building. I could be exaggerating here. When I saw it, I asked if they were sure that they couldn’t give me the pill. They were sure.

I relaxed the best I could. Needles are always worse if you’re expecting them to kill you. In spite of that, the shot was like a tour of the seventh circle of Hell. I wept like a small child.

They were right, though. The shot worked very quickly. Within an hour, the seizures had completely stopped and I was about ready to fall asleep. By 7 PM, I was back home sleeping.

A week later, they upped my medication levels from 100 mg twice a day to 150 mg. Also, I learned that I can’t function on only six hours of sleep.

--

Hope you enjoyed that if you read it. If you didn't, here's a list of Neil Gaiman facts.

On the 13 Reasons Why video.

The vlog post has been edited. It's now in two parts. If you're only in it to see an evil cat fall off the bed, that's in the second part. :)

This is the first time in my life I've been considered stylish.

 I love the internet. I do.

Erin over at Quitting My Day Job, decided that I deserved this Stylish Blogger Award. Thank you very kindly, Erin! I have no idea what stylish blogging means, but apparently I'm doing something right with this thing. :) If you haven't read Erin's blog, you really should. Lots of great insight and stories. She actually up and moved to Mitten, USA to concentrate on writing. Now that is dedication to your craft, people.

So there are some rules for this award.

1) Thank the person who gave you this award and link back to them.
2) Share seven things about yourself.
3) Pass the award the bloggers whom you have recently discovered and who you think are great.
4) Contact the bloggers you've chosen and let them know about the award.

OK, seven things.

1) I have a scar on my right hand from when I fell down a flight of stairs three years ago. It's really faint, but it's there.
2) I've had the nickname Qzie since I was fourteen. It came from a story that a few of us were collaborating on. And by gum, it was hilarious. And it could definitely be salvaged if we tried.
3) I didn't grow up on Harry Potter. I grew up on A Series of Unfortunate Events. And you know what? I still prefer ASoUE. And I am not ashamed of that.
4) I keep using the name "Charlie" for characters and have no idea why.
5) My catchphrase in high school was: "Look! It's the ice cream man! Let's go!" For explanation, see #2.
6) Now my catchphrase is: "Allons-y, Alonso!" Yes. I am that nerd.
7) The only piece of writing that I ever turned in to a contest* was for this play competition about finding your voice. My skit was called "Stockholm Syndrome: 'I Love You, Can I Use The Bathroom?'" It was one of five winners. I hated it so much. But the actors were so funny they made me kind of tolerate my nonsense.

*I wasn't going to, but my best friend grabbed the script from my backpack and turned it in. Ah, best friends. Always shenaniganizing.

Now the people who will probably notice someone with a nearly unpronounceable username giving them the Stylish Blogger Award. Whatever that means.

DaveTree Photography
This is a Blog
Kara Mustafa
Fiction Fusion

We are so stylish with our blogging. Apparently. :)