Excuses as to why I haven’t written for approximately 100 years

1. The end of my trip to Italy was crazy.

2. It was a lot of traveling so I obviously had to catch up on sleep.

3. I started work…ok I had plenty of downtime at work….

4. Buuuuuut, I had to read like crazy to catch up with my goal of 50 books this year.

5. We won’t mention that I am still behind on that.

6. Again, I was reading.

7. I was working on ideas for a book (see, I actually did something like writing…just not here).

8. I almost had to move, and I still might.

9. I started an internship and all my writing energy went into writing emails and re-writing press-releases.

10. …There really is no good reason, I couldn’t even write a book review for the ten books I read in two weeks….

Really guys, I’m sorry. I’m going to try to write more often, the inspiration just hasn’t been there (call that number 11).

A Thousand Pieces of You – Review

When an email from my library appeared in my inbox last month, I was a little surprised. It was a good surprise, but I hadn’t requested any books in the recent past. In fact, I was ready to ignore the book and wait until I had more time to read, but I’m glad I didn’t. This book was exactly what I needed during the stressful time that students (current or past) know as finals. It’s a faster read because of the pacing of the book, and leaves you satisfied, but ready for more.

Title: A Thousand Pieces of You

Author: Claudia Gray

Length: 368 pages

Genre: Young Adult/Science Fiction

Rating: 4.5/5

Marguerite Caine’s parents have created a device able to let its user travel to another reality. The only problem is the device has been stolen and her father killed. The culprit? One of her parent’s assistants, Paul. Theo, her parents’ other grad assistant takes Marguerite through the boundaries of our reality in a desperate search for Paul.

I learned about this book while watching a video from Epic Reads about their ARC (advanced reader copies) from October to January, at the end of last summer. The first thing that struck me was the cover. I’ve been told too many times not to judge a book by its cover, but this one could be an exception to the rule. Everything about it is gorgeous, and even better: the story lives up to the cover.

I am a lover of historical fiction. This is not that. There is no historical background, it’s more time travel back to older times, it’s hard to describe. But, it does have the same appeal for me. At the same time it fulfilled my desire to see the future. Or really a couple possible futures. Gray does a great job of winding these two very different settings into one story that flows and builds connections. It’s fun to see all of the similarities between different realities, while at the same time practically reading a different story.

The only part of the story that I wasn’t entirely in love with was the love triangle. It did lead to some great moments, but I felt it was very unequal (as in more time was spent with one guy). Looking back, maybe this made the love triangle more interesting. Give one guy a slight advantage over the other and see what happens.

But, as much as I wasn’t loving the love triangle, I flew through the story. The book is fast paced and keeps the reader guessing. There are enough plot twists to enter into a competition with an Arby’s curly fry. I never truly trusted the characters in the book, and without spoiling anything, there was an action that left me with my mouth hanging open. Gray’s writing grabbed my attention from the start and prodded her characters to get their true essence out. Because of this she creates characters that I want to meet and worlds I would love spend time in. She spins everything from science to art and philosophy together to form one cohesive story with something for everyone.

A Thousand Pieces of You, was a great read. It was lively, funny, and I can’t wait for more in the series.

???? Chapter One

So, the title may be a little confusing, but that’s because I haven’t named this work yet. So, let me know what you think: comments, likes, concerns, ideas for a title, anything is appreciated!

May 2nd

Ellen’s alarm went off, making her jump. She slapped the top of the clock as the red numbers blinded her telling her it was 6:15. So much for sleeping before the first day of work she thought. There was no use rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, she needed to look nice today. Instead, she stood up and stretched, extending her arms above her head and feeling the muscles pull outwardly after a night in a tight ball.

“Well nothing to avoid getting ready now,” she said to the empty apartment. She had only moved in about a week ago; boxes still filled the corners, but she could already tell she was going to need more furniture. The cold white walls would be bare, and the kitchen cabinets empty. The only sign that someone is actually living in the space is a small white kitten that she had found in the corner of the apartment when she had first moved in. With another sigh, she headed into the bathroom to shower.

***

“Ms. Dachers, meet Mr. Bloomheart,” Ellen’s new boss, Mr. Trent, said gesturing a thick hand towards the young man in front of her, as if he thought she might not understand the name belonged to him. Although, she was glad he didn’t mean someone else. Mr. Bloomheart wore a pair of dark pants, a dark shirt that seemed a little to big for him, and a gray tie. The clothes made him appear as if he was trying to fit into another man’s outfit, but his face was warm. He had shiny, almost chestnut colored hair, and his green eyes squinched at the corners, as if he was trying to create little river valleys around his eyes, when he smiled.

“Call me George,” Mr. Bloomheart said.

“Ellen,” she said taking George’s outstretched hand. It was warm, but full of callouses. Strange, he didn’t seem like he worked out, and it wasn’t like this publishing job took a lot of lifting.

“Mr. Bloomheart’s cubicle isn’t around here,” Mr. Trent said pushing her towards the wall of windows that covered the outside of the building, “but I’m sure you two will run into each other often, you’re both fresh out of school.” She watched as they passed cubicles filled with men and women and different decorations. There was a picture of a family, there was one filled with pictures of the beach, and one that was almost completely empty except for the woman who filled the seat, sitting as if she was a statue.

“That’s Ms. Carthright,” Mr. Trent whispered in her ear as they passed, “she’s quiet, but one of our best. She has a knack for knowing which books will be a hit.”

At the end of the row of cubicles Mr. Trent pointed out hers. It was bigger than the others, as if they had taken down a wall and combined two. The only problem Ellen saw with the cubicle was the fact that in order to look out the windows and watch the city from above, she would have to turn away from her desk. What was the point of sitting by the windows on the tenth floor if she didn’t get to enjoy the view for most of the day. Although, she could picture herself creating a nice silhouette when employees came to visit her, as she stood in front of the bright window. It would be the perfect scene.

“Ms. Dachers,” Mr. Trent pulled her from her vision, “does everything look alright?”

“Huh? Oh yes, everything will be fine,” she said still a little angry that he had torn her from her idea, it was too late to save it now, that story was gone. With a nod, Mr. Trent left, leaving her to figure out the rest.

She returned to the window, perhaps there was a chance to save the story. She was always doing that, finding a scene and building off of the vision. One day, one of these visions would give her the perfect story idea. She would write it and everything would be perfect right away, that’s why she was working in a publishing company, it was her in.

“Left you to fend for yourself already, did he?” George was back leaning against the side of her cubicle as if he belonged there, not that she minded too much.

“I can handle it, as soon as I find out what exactly he wants me to do.” She glanced around at the empty desk. A new mac computer and a phone filled the space, just like her apartment, she would have to find some other things to fill the void.

Deep breath she told herself and set her purse down on the desk, and turned back to George. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll let you know once I figure that out,” he said and walked off.

She smiled to herself, she liked him. There was something off about him, like he in the wrong body, but she liked him.

Why no NaNo?

Twitter might actually be killing me. With only two days before November starts my feed is filled with everyone gearing up for NaNoWriMo. If you don’t know what that is, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. In November, people spend their days writing, trying to reach the 50,000 word goal in 30 days. It’s a way to get people writing more, and bring people together doing so.

Last year, I was able to complete the challenge, although not my actual story, I had to add more to it later. But, looking back I have no idea how I did it. Did I find a time turner and turn back time in order to write another chapter? Did I clone myself and now that clone is in a dark alleyway by herself? Maybe I hired someone to go to my classes for me? I have no idea, but I do remember the feeling I got when I finished writing for the day. I had always completed something. It didn’t matter if I hadn’t done any homework or anything else with my day, I always finished my word count.

Right now, everyone is working on their final strokes of priming their story, or just finding a new canvas that was hidden in the back of their mind. All the while, I’m working on just keeping up with everything I already have. So here are the two reasons why I can’t participate in NaNoWriMo this year. (Really this is just a way of convincing myself because I wish I could).

• No Time:

This one is the main reason I won’t be writing this year. With school, my job, and all of my other time commitments, I can’t find enough time to justify sitting down and writing 1,600 words. I could try to justify this further by lying and talking about the important mission I have to go on during November, but there isn’t one, just school work.

• My Story:

I have a story idea, and one that I really want to write. But, I don’t want to rush through it. I don’t have anything worked out yet. It all stemmed from an assignment for school, but I haven’t had time to hash out the details, or really how the story will go. I want to take my time, and figure everything out before I go and write it.

Now, I have told myself these things many times. I think I have made a mantra out of them. But, I still secretly plan on waking up on Saturday and pulling up a new word document.

Are you planning on writing for NaNo? Had you heard about it before?

Writing, Reading, and Nicolas Cage

Last night my friend, and fellow writer, drug (dragged?) me to the first meeting of the year for the Campus Creative Writers. What I was expecting was a bunch of nicely dressed students with coffee sitting in silence as they all worked on their masterpiece. What I found was a bunch of students just like myself eating Reese’s and trying to find time to write even a few words.

Giant paper hats were made and we all gathered around a table introducing ourselves and talking. When we started I still wasn’t sure if I was working on my own project (I’m avoiding thinking about November because I don’t have time to participate in NaNoWriMo this year) or if we were going to do something entirely new. Turns out we were working on writing prompts. It started with: the story has to end in a valley, it takes place during spring, and there is a birth involved. I was stumped. I had no idea what to say, and with only ten minutes I wasn’t sure I would find anything to say. It’s been so long since I have written anything story wise that I thought my story muscles were dead. But, soon I had written a page of words, and the words weren’t awful.

The meeting lasted for two hours. Two hours of pure joy. I haven’t ever really worked with other writers, besides one creative writing class, but even then, we weren’t together during the process. And when I thought I had come up with the most ridiculous story to match the prompt, I was promptly (haha) put in my place with something I had never considered.

I never realized how we benefit from working around like-minded people. I might have hated what I wrote, but there was always encouragement and happy faces when I looked up from sharing my story. Not to mention during the “would you rather” questions that were asked in between prompts, we all figured out that the internet is way more important than having your personal space invaded by Nicolas Cage (would you rather never have internet again, or have Nicolas Cage always be within one meter of you). That created some creative ideas of how to get around showering, getting to be an extra in all of his movies, and making homework sound more interesting.

This face would be a constant in your life, but at least you could check Facebook.

The night was the perfect way to end my day, and avoid all of the work that needed to be completed. I realized that everyone is trying to find time to write, and joining this means I have an excuse to put everything else aside and spend a little time working with words however I want.

So, now I turn to you dear reader:

Would you rather never have internet again, or have Nicolas Cage always be within a meter of you?

Personalities in a Bottle

An old man stands behind a hard wood counter. Names are scratched deep into what used to be a flat surface; now, it is a small landscape, or a picture for the blind. But, neither the man, nor the counter is what is really important about this picture. You can picture any old man that you know. It could be your grandfather, or the man you thought looked a little like Santa on vacation last summer. No, those are not important. What you should focus on is the bottles that cover the walls behind him. There are perfume bottles that glow the color of the little sprouts of grass that pop up as the snow melts in spring, mason jars holding a red liquid that reminds people of cherries, and the typical mystical potion vials that are strangely clear. Any shape you can imagine could be found on those shelves in the store in any color you wanted.

You have been down this block of the road almost every day for so long that you can’t believe you missed this old man and his bottles. But there it is one day, and your curiosity wins. You push the door open and the man looks up from the counter.

“Good day, what is it you’ll be needing?” he turns, ready to head down the aisle to grab the bottle you specify. He pauses for a second on his toes before turning back around with a grin on his face. “Or, may I ask, is this your first time here? Ah yes, I can tell, you have that first time glimmer in your eyes. Don’t worry, we will find exactly what you need.” He walks down the far left row, whistling a tune you could have sworn you grew up hearing.

He comes back with a small notebook, bursting with sticky notes, and a black ballpoint pen. “Shall we begin? I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“Question one: What was your most prized possession as a child? Now I know, doesn’t seem like it has any relevance, but trust me, these questions have never failed me before.”

As you answer his question he considers a pile of sticky notes in front of him, before grabbing a blue one and drawing a strange symbol on the note and sticking it in the center of the page.

“Where were you headed before you walked through that door?”

Again, his hand hovers over the rainbow of sticky notes before deftly pulling a yellow one off the pile and placing it in the upper right corner with no writing.

“When was the last time you cried?”

This time it is a green note, with a small circle placed half over the blue in the center.

“Final question, what are you looking for?”

His voice makes you hesitate as you consider what he means. Does he know you lost your favorite shirt yesterday? Is talking about relationships? What about money? But, there is something in his eyes that tells you exactly what he is asking.

He hesitates before pulling a small purple note and placing it lightly in the crease of the book. He studies the book and turns it around a few times.

“Now you see, these bottles hold the key to what many people think they need. Over there on the top shelf of the far row, you see those bottles that are a nice bright pink? Most people think that those are what they need, many times they ask for it without even realizing that it’s not what they want. You see those bottles are full of consideration. I know, the color deceives you, you were thinking pure and true love? Well, that’s not what I sell here. I don’t sell feelings here, you can go down a block if you want those. Here, I sell something much better, I sell personalities.”

“Although, now that I think about it, maybe I should go ahead and sell the compassion to those who ask, the world seems to be lacking that these days. Ahh, but that would go against the honesty side of my personality.”

“But, back to the point, personalities are so varied and people are always wanting the change them. They see someone who is intelligent and leading the world in the fight against hunger and they believe that just adding some of this,” he motions towards a perfume bottle shaped like an owl half filled with deep sea blue,” will give them the same success of that person.” He gives a small chuckle as he admires the bottle on the shelf. “No, what they miss is the kindness, and ingenuity side of that particular personality.”

“Personalities are as varied as the bottles in this shop. Everyone has a different mixture of different amounts, but I have yet to come across the perfect ‘recipe’ as I like to call them. So, why are you here today? What do you believe you need?”

The Deckle Edge

I love the feeling of flipping through the pages of a book when I first take it off the shelf. The sound, the nice motion of the pages (secretly pretending that you can read that fast), and the smell of the pages reaching out to greet you. In fact, it is an important part of my book choosing routine. It is one of the main reasons I prefer paperbacks, because you can get the full experience.

But do you know what ruins this experience?

Deckle edges (in case you didn’t read the title).

You know what deckle edges are:

Look at those sections. You can’t flip through each page evenly.

 

Most of the time these pages are on hardcover books, which I don’t buy as often, but there are times when I have found them on my paperbacks.

You can find them on older books because of the paper making process at the time. You can read more about that here. Today though we have these on purpose, it’s a sign that the paper is better quality. But I find that it deters from my reading enjoyment.

• First, it the flipping thing, you can flip through the pages evenly. The different heights of the pages mean that sometimes whole sections flip at once.
• Turning pages can be difficult, again for the whole unevenness.
• The softer edges and cool texture mean that I constantly find my self petting, or just playing with the edges of the page.
• On a purely visual level, I think it looks messier than the straight edges.

But there is a good thing about them:

• It makes me feel like I am reading in older times, or reading an old, classic book.

I’m sure someone who likes these edges could give you more reasons to love them, so maybe we could get the other side in the comments.

Why do you like or dislike deckle edges?

 

 

The Growth of Knowledge

This fall, I am going to be a section leader for a group of about 20 freshman students at my university. I will give them small homework assignments weekly, and be there as a source for information and guidance. To prepare for this role (and who are we kidding, I need  a lot of preparation for this task) our supervisors give a monthly assignment to do which helps us learn what a student is going through. This month we are learning about how the mind works when learning.

The first thing we had to do was read this article published by Carol S. Dweck originally in Scientific America, called, “The Secret to Raising Smart Kids.” If you can read it, I highly recommend it. I’m usually not one that enjoys reading scientific reports, but Dweck is highly entertaining while inserting the information into your head.

The article talks about two types of people in the world:

• Those who believe that intelligence can be learned.
• Those who believe that intelligence is a natural trait (so basically a person, like Einstein, is naturally smart)

So which do you think is the case? No peaking.

 

 

 

No peaking for you!

 

 

Your brain isn’t really this color, I think.

 

 

 

Thought you were going to see another brain?

I grew up thinking that intelligence was just another trait. Well, sort of, I knew you could work really hard and do just as well if you didn’t have the “gift,” but school was always something that I didn’t have to work at.

Well, as the article says, intelligence is something that everyone needs to work on. But it goes farther to say that students who believed intelligence was a trait seemed to do worse in school when they were challenged. A class would rise in difficulty until the student did not do well; the student would give up, using the idea that their brain wasn’t “wired like that.”

This came at a great time for me. I didn’t do as well in a few of my classes, and I started second guessing my writing. But just switching my thoughts from “wow, didn’t do so well, what am I supposed to do if I can’t even do what I thought I could!” to “well, there we have it, I needed to work harder at understanding the points the professor was trying to highlight. If I reread the passages a few more times, and ask her questions I should understand this better.”

All in all, it seems to be another reminder to me that I am in school to learn, I am not in school for the piece of paper I get at the end. I will have grades that I am not completely happy with, but I should be happy for the challenge.

But it goes wider than that. It can be used for everyone. You can do this. If you want to write, become a mathematician, doctor, or rocket scientist, you can.

Mini books!

 

 

p.s. The side picture this month, and the last picture, I took in Den Haag (which is in the Netherlands) at a museum called, Meermanno.

Around the Text of a Book

The library just opened and you run in to find a book to read on your day off. Your friend told you about this great book, the book everyone is reading it and you need to find out why everyone loves it. You walk through the aisle, running your fingers along the spines of the books. You find your section, then row, and finally the book. You grab it and return to the desk, where it will be scanned and stamped, before running back to your car.

You get home and start some water for tea, and eat a quick lunch before grabbing the book and heading outside. The wind blows gently, and you sink into your favorite chair. The one that is perfectly placed so that you can sit in the shade, and the sun won’t shine in your eyes.

You open to the first page and begin your journey, but when you turn the first page you are surprised. Lines are underlined in all different colors. The margins of the pages have the occasional scribble of a thought. Some scribbles are big and loopy; others are tight and barely legible.

As  you progress, you feel as if you are reading with a group of friends. The big loopy writing could belong to Lisa, she always loves the inspirational quotes. And that tight writing could be Ben, he was always a big fan of dry humor. You grab a pen and add your comments to the story. Sometimes even commenting on the comments. Your handwriting taking up just a bit more space, hoping that someone will enjoy the book as much as you. By the end you are looking forward to the margin comments. Its the first reaction to events, no time to consider the deeper meaning, just pure emotion.

And then, a few days later, you reach the end of the book. And there at the end are your friends. Their final reactions and views on the book fill up the empty space. So, just like them, you write your final words, ending with, “goodbye my friends, and thank you.”

You are sad, not just because the book is over, but because it feels like the end of a friendship. Yet, you can’t imagine reading the book without Ben and Lisa’s comments.

 

And that is why I support writing in books.

Choosing a Book for the Plane

In two days I am leaving to go to the Netherlands. In two days I will spend triple the amount of time waiting in lines than I do in a week, only to walk to another line. In two days I am boarding a plane to sit in the air for over eight hours flying through time at over twice the normal speed (I actually love flying, thoughts of being a pilot have crossed my mind more than a couple times). The question I face now is what to read during that flight?

Now, I’m reading two books. The first is The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon. Now this book is thick. Not as long as some books, but it would be a burden to carry around in a bag that I carry on one shoulder, so that’s out. The second book is Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein. This book was recommended to me with comments that it probably wasn’t the best book to read on a plane (which I took to mean that it will make me cry). So, I’m on a mission today to find the right book to read on the plane.

I have my nook all charged up, so I’ll start there (I need to save my money for things over there).

• Newest book: Night Swim by Jessica Keener. I got this on as a “Free Friday” book last week or the week before. I didn’t really read the description originally, but it could be a nice easy read. But, it also sounds sad.
• A little older in my library is a book that I was interested in, (but forgot about because of… well, I don’t remember, life) Miss Buncle’s Book by D.E. Stevenson. It’s gotten good reviews, and has the unique book within a book thing going on. I’ll flag this for the trip.
• Ahh yes, The Iliad and The Odyssey by Homer (how come he doesn’t have a second name? I want to be that famous that people only have one name for me). This was a gift from my mom when I went off to college last year. It was great because I had so much more free time (that’s sarcasm, but I was still excited to get it). Seems a little heavy for a plane ride, I don’t usually concentrate that much on anything because I am too excited.
• I could re-read a book. Something like Harry Potter, or Eragon, something that I have read a bazillion times before. Then, I don’t have to worry about missing something.
• Hmm, another interesting choice is The Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart. There are two topics that I will always find interesting: King Arthur and World War II. This falls in the King Arthur category. Marked for options.
• Here we go, for my physical book, I have decided on How I Live Now, by Meg Rosoff. It’s got both good and bad reviews, doesn’t seem too sad, isn’t ridiculously long, and sounds interesting. Now, I just have to get my hands on it.

Who are we kidding, I’m going to bring Code Name Verity also. I always over pack, why stop now?

 

What book would you read on a plane?