Let's admit it

February is a blah month.

It's so blah, it got its own lame holiday.  Sort of like Thanksgiving is a consolation prize for November having to be November, except that Thanksgiving is a homey, warm, comfortable holiday with family and pumpkin pie (or better yet, French silk) and those little squishy white buns and you don't have to have a significant other in order to have a nice time.  Valentine's Day, on the other hand, is a sort of a consolation prize, but more of a slap in the face.  The people who are most in need of chocolate are those not in relationships.  But the primary way of getting chocolate on V Day is by being in a relationship.  A conundrum if I ever saw one.

Anyhow, my point is that February is a depressing, grey, slumpy month that doesn't even have Thanksgiving. I don't think it's humanly possible to be inspired in February.*

So I'm going to blame an entire month of mostly not writing and not doing anything but practical homework on the fact that it was February.

(Okay, yeah, it's March now and almost April, but maybe this February was blahher than usual and the aftereffects slouched into March.)

I have finally picked myself up and, doggonit, I'm going to write.

That's a promise.

Either blog posts or snippets or whole novels, I will write!  Doggonit, I will WRITE or I will WRITE about NOT WRITING!

*The exception being that I did come up with the idea for my current project in February like four years ago.  But that's mostly irrelevant.

The world at one o'clock

The world at one o'clock is stars poking through wisps of cloud
             Knowing you'll regret this at your 10a.m. tomorrow (today?), but you're simply too alive to sleep now.
                                 A caffeine buzz from the latte you probably shouldn't have drunk.
                  Fingers tapping against the keys, as if your ideas will disappear without immediate attention.  Ideas are needy like that.

The world at one o'clock is a music that doesn't need speaking.
    Silent sweetness.
                                                    Climbing into a warm bed.
            Everyone is asleep.  And you really should be too.
                 If you're awake, you should be doing something productive at least.  Right?
                            Wrong.
        Midnight is not an hour to be productive.  Midnight is magic and velvet and glitter in the sky and the earth settling into place and all is well, all is well, and all will be well.

The world at o'clock is that times ten.

Pieces of Inspiration

On the rare, rare, rare occasion that writer's block hits and I decide to do something slightly more productive than watch videos on YouTube,* I like to try and find inspiration from outside sources, such as music, other books, or pictures.

*rare being that I do something more productive than YouTube.  Not the writer's block part, unfortunately.

Writer's block is sort of here.  So words aren't really working.  So I'm going to use as few as possible.  Here are some inspiring picture.  PictureS.  Picture plural.  Sometimes I think I should just leave all my typos in my posts and just let the world mock me.  Because some of them are funny.  I amuse myself.  Heh.  OKAY.  PICTURES.

Be inspired.

P.S. If you're super inspired, leave a couple sentence teaser/story in the comments.  That'd be cool.  And stuff.

Walking to the Caf

Walking to the Caf
(not a poem)

The frozen snow crunches beneath our boots
And dusts the dorm roofs.
The wind nips at our noses
Like an over-eager puppy.
The sky is dark, but brilliant
Like there is a light shining behind its fabric.
Above us the moon gleams
(a silver smile).
Tree branches are dark and distinct on the sky
(spilled ink).
We laugh
And catch our breath
And smile so hard our teeth turn cold.
Shivers chase us into the warmth.
The night is a cloak
At our backs.

The Magic Ends. Or at Least Pauses.

In what I think was my first post, I mentioned the not-so-small fact that an agent was currently interested in my novel and had requested pages.  While the result might not be something I'm eager to announce across the internet world, I like closure.

So.

She wrote back last night and very politely rejected my novel.

Yep.  So that's the end of that.  Honestly, if you want to know, I'm not crushed.  Or discouraged.  Or upset. Or devastated.  Mostly when I opened that email, what I felt was relief.

A) Because I'd been waiting almost two months and was itching for an answer of some kind.
B) Because this whole time I've been questioning whether I'm really ready to be published.

I'm in college.  I have a work study job and I'm in intramurals and I want to be in another play and I'm part of two or three different clubs.  Plus, I just took an extended weekend off for a trip to D.C. (March for Life HOLLA) and I'm planning on spending spring break in Montana.  And during the summer I juggle two jobs, one full time and one part time (= roughly 50 hours a week).  Oh.  Also there's this thing called a social life that I like to pretend I have.

So, while it would have been superthrillingmindblowinglyamazing if this agent had wanted to represent me, it's also okay.  I have school, and family, and friends, and my faith, and a life, and writing is sort of on the side right now.

Yeah.  That's pretty much how it stands.  And I still have some things in the air: the ABNA contest, and a few queries to agents still floating around out there, but for now, when I'm barely able to write anything (not to mention work on my story) every day, it's definitely for the best how this turned out.

I'm stoked that she requested pages at all.  I mean, that's still awesome!  And in no way am I discouraged about my writing or my novel.  I might put actively trying to get it published on the back burner for a bit, while I focus on other things, but I know I'm on the right path (SHE REQUESTED PAGES!!!) and I know that I'll eventually find the right place for my novel.

*dramatic music*

Probably the best post I will ever write...

Ok, so in my tagline I did say that I would write mostly about writing and reading, but also about college and life in general, and well, mostly writing.

This is one of those posts (soon to be many, unfortunately) (fortunately?) that has nothing to do with writing and very little to do with college or life in general.

(Yeah, life in general is sort of a cheap tag, because there's not much that doesn't have to do with life in general.)

This post goes beyond the mere confines of writing.  Beyond the smidgeny details of essays and classes.  Far far beyond normal, boring, brain-numbing general life.  But.  At the same time, it has EVERYTHING to do with writing, college, and life.  Whoa.  Mind-blowing, right?

What could this topic be?

What could it BE?

Pure goodness?

Exquisite joy?

Perfection hardly believed to be attainable on this green earth?

Well, yes.

I know with all those descriptions, one would automatically assume that I meant coffee, but that's a post for another day.  At this point... chocolate is what I want to speak about.

Let's admit it: chocolate is the ideal motivation for anything.  Don't want to write?  Promise yourself chocolate.  Don't want to finish homework?  Promise yourself chocolate.  Don't want to work out?  Promise yourself chocolate.  And no, that does not defeat the purpose.  You EARNED it.

Facts:

• Chocolate reduces the likelihood of a heart attack.
• Chocolate may prevent cancer.
• Napoleon always carried chocolate with him.  (That's one intelligent dude.)
• Chocolate is good for your skin.
• Chocolate chips were invented in 1939.
• Chocolate improves blood flow.
• The largest chocolate bar weighed 5,026 lbs.
• Chocolate is a natural anti-depressant.
• 23 million Hershey's kisses are produced every single day.
• Chocolate can make you live longer.

Yep.  I think right now is a good time to go treat yourself with a piece of chocolate.  Or a Hershey's kiss.  Or a  chocolate chip.  Or a mocha.  A chocolate-covered espresso bean or raisin.  A mug of hot chocolate.  Chocolate milk.  One of ten bazillion different kinds of chocolate candy bars.  The POSSIBILITIES.

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest

Yeah, so I got an email about an hour ago reminding me about this Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award whatchamathingy, and I did what I do every year.

Squinted through the rules.

Checked the word count on my novel.

Read the fine print.

Considered it.

Shrugged and thought, "Next year I'll remember this earlier and give it a shot."

Except this time, when I was about to hit the delete button to send the email into my junk folder, I hesitated.  A series of thoughts nagged at the back of my mind.  My novel fits within the word count.  It probably could use a touch up, but heck, I submitted it to an agent per her request and it's probably as polished as it will ever be.  I even have a pitch written.  So.  Why not submit?

My sensible mind smirked and said, "Hm, well let's see, maybe because you FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS A MERE TWO MINUTES AGO?"

I don't like listening to my sensible mind.

Contest: entered.