If I have seen farther than others, it is because I was standing on the shoulder of giants.

Guess who's gonna be a Municipal Liaison for National Novel Writing Month 2009? :D

I'm so excited/overwhelmed/ecstatic. I've already read through the whole ML Guide to Life in lieu of studying for a theology test later this week. I'm ready to see Lynchburg, VA listed among the regions for NaNo '09. I'm so excited to get our forums going so we can all meet one another and plan kick-off parties, write-ins, and TGIO extravaganzas. :)

Now I've just gotta figure out how I'm gonna juggle my most difficult semester ever, a new job, dorm leadership, and writing a novel in November. -headdesk-

Did I mention my current state of combined enthusiasm and distress?

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

It's been so long since I blogged. This is my third week back at Liberty for the fall semester of my junior year, and I can already tell it's going to be one of the most challenging semesters of my undergrad career. I'm taking:

• Theology 202 at 7:40 a.m. Enough said.
• Western Civilizations, taught by one of the most intimidatingly intelligent history professors I've ever encountered.
• Philosophy 201. One of our textbooks concerns the philosophy behind The Matrix trilogy. Enough said.
• Biology... I would argue "enough said" here, but honestly, my professor is so enthusiastic and really such a great teacher that I'm not really dwelling on the fact that it's a science class.
• World literature -- which is actually the reason I'm blogging now. I have to keep a blog for this class and write a post for each reading assignment we have. Check it out here.

I was thinking I'd have more to say, but that's really enough to bother you with in one blog post. I'm counting down the days until NaNoWriMo begins (60!!!) and trying to keep my head above water. I applied, interviewed, and successfully wrangled a job as a cashier at the Lowe's Hardware Store in town and, in the short term, I picked up my copy of Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins today and intend to read until my world lit class starts in four hours. =)

Live long and prosper, dear blog readers. <3

How sweet I roamed from field to field, and tasted all the summer's pride.

Hello, dear neglected blog readers. It seems I've failed to write a blog post for... well, basically all summer. There are many reasons for this, and, as we all know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, so I'll spare you the more boring excuses and give you the lowdown on the last two months of my life.

I had many ambitions for my summer, and none were terribly far-reaching, so I'll spare you the gory details and instead illustrate for you how the average day in my summer was spent.

1. Wake up sometime between 10 and 11 a.m.
2. Get online.
3. Play games and chat with Vultures.
4. Eat breakfast.
5. Play more games. Chat some more.
6. Do something productive around the house.
7. Hang out with my family.
8. Have dinner. (Most of the time I skipped lunch.)
9. More hanging out with the family.
10. They go to bed. I get online again.
11. Chatting and/or Buffy-watching with the Scooby Gang.
12. Maybe go to bed before 2 a.m.
13. Probably not.
14. Finally pass out and repeat it all again in a few hours.

It may sound terribly boring, but the summer has been a great refresher for the coming school year. (And isn't that the point?) My three-month summer hiatus from Liberty University was interspersed with a lot of travel and a lot of church activities. I didn't work on a lot of concrete writing projects, but my imagination never shut down, and I have lots of outlines going on files all over my hard drive, so there's no shortage of fictional worlds to explore in my writing soon.

I'm really looking forward to NaNoWriMo '09, taking 15 hours of difficult, strenuous classes this fall semester, and possibly juggling a job in there, too. Should be a while ride, eh? I plan to make this blog a little more life-friendly in the coming months, because I've been focusing on the writing aspect of my life and I wish I'd given myself more freedom to ramble about everything else. So that's your warning. :)

Also, as a sidenote, I'm now on tumblr! (http://ashleyscript.tumblr.com/)

Suddenly, it seems as though all the world's a-twitter.

@ashleyyosaurus:
I want to write, but I also want to sleep. I think the compromise is going to sleep thinking about my story, and hoping I dream about it. :]
a few minutes ago from TwitterFox

I'm kind of sick of finding quotes to use for my post titles. So there.

:) <- That's pretty much how I feel right now about my writing. I've done some writing on my summer novel today -- about 1600 words worth -- and it feels really good. I was going to post the intro passage on Ashley Does Writings, but it's lengthy. (To give you non-NaNoWriMos an idea of how long 1600 words is, it's ten times the length of this post.) Granted, in the grand scheme of things, 1600 words is nothing. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is about 190,000 words. The goal for NaNoWriMo novels is 50,000 words in 30 days, and my NaNovel ended up being about 65,000 words.

Needless to say, I won't be posting the entire passage on any blog.

But progress is being made, and while I have to admit, for me, some aspects of exposition are excruciating to work through, and aren't quite going as planned, it's all part of the process, right? And it's not like I have anything better to do with my time. :)

Creativity is piercing the mundane to find the marvelous.

// Before you read this, please know that I've avoided writing this post for several days, because it falls under the category of "admitting I'm wrong" in my mind. I certainly don't enjoy admitting I'm failing at something I was previously so excited about. With that said...

Well, in stark contrast to what I'd assumed I'd been doing with my first weeks of summer, I haven't written very much at all. I've been bored to crocodile tears, and finding a job to occupy my time (and give me an activity to, in comparison, make writing seem like an escape) has become impossible. No one wants to hire a college student for two months, when she's just going to leave the state in August. (Oh, I can't imagine why not...)

So, although I'm still constantly dreaming up little clips for my summer novel, and progress could be made by simply writing those down. So I may need to just begin there.

I think this is just a hurdle I'm going to have to get over with old-fashioned perseverance. I'm starting to think, also, that my on pause sort of relationship with the Lord isn't helping my waning interest in my stories.

I love the place; the magnificent books; I require books as I require air.

Last week, as I was packing all my things to come home from college, my mom was appalled by how many books I had accumulated all year. Books, packaged up in cardboard moving boxes, are incredibly heavy and bulky, but I can't imagine having gone all year without those books at school with me.

The problem is, I'd spent way too much money on books throughout the duration of the school term. So I've resolved to not buy a single book this summer. That's how you find me at the public library, where I am now -- I'm going to check out a library book for the first time in years. I missed this place.

Either write things worth reading or do things worth the writing.

This is one of those blog posts which is way overdue, and should have been penned in the -- well, in the heat of the moment. As it is, I've been home for the past few days, recuperating from a particularly grueling semester of college, and tweeting my days away (see below). Thus, a delayed post.

Last Thursday was my first morning home from school. I took it easy and slept in, and my mom and I just hung out and appreciated our time off. The week before, I'd sent out for my free proof copy of my NaNoWriMo novel, the one I was entitled to after writing 50,000 words last November, from CreateSpace. I'd finished putting together the proof online weeks ago, but I delayed sending out for the copy for one reason and another. But, finally, I put in my NaNo coupon code, entered my home shipping address, and squealed with glee.

So on Thursday, when I opened the front door and saw my package, I couldn't believe it was actually the paperback copy of the book I wrote. I tore into it, and there it was, in all its flawed glory. The cover image didn't look quite right, but there was my name! My name on the cover of a book! Oh, joy! Oh, rapture!!

My subsequent tweets (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) tell the rest of the story. It was a very prideful few days, while I carried around the book and waited for anyone to ask me about it. And now, that feeling of having a real, tangible representation of my imagination is driving me onward in my next project, which, for now, is untitled and will be referred to as the summer novel. My goal is to finish, edit, and submit it for scrutiny/acceptance/rejection by the start of August. :D

The bitterness of studying is preferable to the bitterness of ignorance.

Hmm. On Tuesday, I'll take my last final (for theatre appreciation) of my sophomore year. The next day, I'll be home for the summer. The following day -- Thursday -- I will definitely already be bored out of my skull.

The good news is, I already have the story in mind that I'm going to write, per my last blog post. I've forced my roommates and my family to listen to me explain the complicated plot and the backstabbing characters, and they've all feigned a healthy level of excitement about my summer endeavor. I, personally, can't wait.

But for now, I'm still a college student persevering through final exams.

A thought comes... it's a true feeling, a funny feeling. And I get to develop it.

This weekend, I brought my roommate of two years home to see my town and meet my friends. The whole time, I've been looking at my town the way she might be seeing it now, for the first time.

Honestly, this place is beautiful. Right now, everything is alive, and breathing. The trees -- thousands of different breeds, all dreamed up and grown by a creative God -- are lush and green, the mountains, rolling along below sparkling blue skies, are covered in life. My small town is populated by happy people, full of love, and has so much to offer by way of culture and storytelling. It took me two years attending college in another state to drive 200 miles home again and realize all this.

Anyway, I tell you all this not just to make you jealous and wish you lived in northwestern North Carolina, but to share that I'm desperate to write a story about it all. And I think I'm going to spend my summer doing just that. I'll be living here, and experiencing the story to some degree, at least, so it'll be fairly easy to accurately capture what I'm aiming to. I just want to be sure I record the eccentricities of the customs and lifestyles I've grown up with in the south, without being stereotypical -- because there's nothing commonplace about the way I felt today.

Writing is more fun than performing, because I get to color with words.

Okay. It's been a few days since my joyful, triumphant feeling of success faded from my class on Tuesday, but I'm going to try to record all this with the same factual enthusiasm I felt. After all, I honestly should have blogged sooner. But, well, I didn't, so here we go.

My "production team" in my Theatre Appreciation class had our dress rehearsal and performance earlier this week. We performed the short play I wrote, which, as I looked back to find the link to that post, I realize I haven't mentioned since that very first read-through. Okay. Let me backtrack even further.

Our team met at least once a week outside class since that first read-through, slowly working on character development and line memorization. I was constantly impressed by how natural the lines I had written were, especially when I thought back on how effortless it all was. The lines I'd written, spoken by these amateur actors, were actually believable! We were witty, and hurt, and compassionate when it made sense. It was an awesome process.

So on Tuesday, at class time, we were totally prepared. We'd had a dress rehearsal the night before with our minimal props and our casual, practical costumes, and our lines were smooth and our acting natural. Still, we were nervous. Some of the plays we'd seen in class had been truly miserable to watch, and others were surprisingly well made. And, of course, our group was slated to go last, after three other performances.

But we got out there, in front of our class of 100 other bored students (and all my roommates, who'd come for moral support/to see what the fuss was all about/to get me to shut up), and we were AWESOME. Every line was delivered with perfect ease and fluidity, and the one mishap we experienced was covered up by some smooth improv on the part of one of the actors. We were brilliant. :D

Following our performance was a Q&A session with our professor/the other students. We were all giddy with the thought that we were actually finished, and it had actually gone well after all our preparation, and then -- another surprise -- the audience weren't bored! They had loved everything about our play! Every actor was complimented, they loved our director's choices, and my script -- they adored my script! I couldn't believe it! They'd actually appreciated our simple, emotional play about four people stuck in an elevator together. We didn't try too hard, but we didn't play down our strengths, either. Our professor was extremely impressed.

Afterward, when class was dismissed and we'd taken a group picture in costume, one of the senior students came over to shake my hand (lol) and say how much he enjoyed it. He asked me about my writing process and told me I should definitely consider taking THEA 350 -- the playwriting course. I couldn't believe it, honestly. I couldn't.

Later, Lauryn told me she just knows I'm "going to be famous one day." I never imagined I'd enjoy playwriting -- novels always seemed like my forte. But what if there's something to this? What if all those years of writing plays at Thanksgiving about pilgrims and forcing my siblings to memorize lines and put on a show before dinner in front of our grandparents were actually leading somewhere? What if this is an open door?

Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.

I'm really enjoying writing my story excerpts on ashleydoeswritings. It's something to look forward to each night, and a goal to meet. I like goals.

Plus, I've already got a lot of the story planned out, so I promise I'm not wasting your time. Well, I mean, the concept of Viette's story isn't at all original, but it's just practice, right? :]

The thoughts are there, but they create no reflection in you.

Sorry, I haven't had much to blog about lately. Honestly, I've been very very busy, but there's been no time to write, which means my NaNo-in-April project was the first to go out the window. I'm keeping the files on my desktop, though, which means they'll be there laying down a thick guilt trip every time I choose to Skype and/or watch Buffy with the Vultures to unwind after all my other obligations are out of the way.

I still think in stories, if you were wondering. I just don't quite have the time to record them as I'd like.

//Edit: my answer to this dilemma. http://ashleydoeswritings.blogspot.com/

Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.

I'll have you know, the play I wrote for my Theatre Appreciation class is going to be performed at the end of the semester.

When the group decided to produce my play, I was overwhelmed with immediate terror -- not pride. I did not want the play I was so far from being proud of to be put on stage for all to laugh at. I'd dealt with some kind of stage fright in sharing my 2008 NaNovel with my friends and family, but this was different. All the other students in the group had written plays for our class, too, and some of them were even involved in the theatre department. But now, they were going to be carefully reading through every line in my script, pointing out flaws in the stage directions and holes in the almost nonexistent plot development. What in the world was I supposed to find in that process to look forward to? (Not to mention the fact that I was going to have to act!)

So, last night we met for a read-through. I'd been dreading this hour the whole day, and I told the other team members upfront that I was terrified; I was so glad our meeting place had low light, to mask my blush.

But then, we just got right down to it. The four of us who would be performing read through our lines, and we fixed the few parts that were awkward or mistyped. Our "director," the fifth member of our group (and a theatre major), gave advice to the one person who was having trouble reading the lines smoothly, and then we were finished.

I couldn't believe how natural everyone sounded -- even me! Granted, the character whose lines I ended up taking was one I had written with myself in mind. She's sharp, catty, and only dares to reveal the least bit of compassion. The others sounded really good, and finally, I felt that bit of pride I should have known all along in hearing them bringing to life the characters I'd imagined. Isn't that something?

The trouble with doing nothing is you never know when you're finished.

Here's the thing. I know I've been kinda torn for a while about participating in Script Frenzy '09 while it looms ahead, but I think I've settled on a compromise. I'm going to write another NaNovel -- 50,000 words in 30 days -- while Script Frenzy is taking over April.

I've had a certain story in mind for months now, and though it's not always at the forefront, the characters keep nagging at me to get them written down before it's too late. I can't wait for November and I need a self-proclaimed goal, so I figured I'll just stick with Script Frenzy for moral support -- because I just don't think playwriting is for me just yet (I need more practice).

On another, drastically unrelated note, I love the ease with which you can talk to some people. :D

Decision, n. Firmness of conviction.

Am I or am I not going to do ScriptFrenzy?!

The thing is, I just rewrote my ten-page play for Theatre Appreciation. I didn't feel comfortable turning in the project I'd already completed two weeks ago because I didn't think it met the requirements for the theatrical form I'd picked. So, I had to come up with a totally different scenario, which ended in a project with a forced feel, not at all natural. Oh, well. I can only hope meeting the requirements will earn points where I lose them for being sloppy.

Anyway, tonight's experience in playwriting has me thinking ScriptFrenzy is a bad idea. And yet, I can't help thinking that, if I don't participate next month, I'll be angry with myself for wasting the opportunity to try something new.

One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.

Here's a funny little story for you. I just got back from a two-night trip to New York City with four of my closest friends and roommates. Wednesday night, before we left, I logged on intending to blog before I went. I nice, short little update about what I was up to.

But my computer, and my school's network, had other plans. Long story short, I was promptly booted from the Internet, forced to run security updates on my machine, and reboot. But rebooting didn't work out so well, and I was forced to conclude that my poor, poor PC had died.

Luckily, it didn't. I was thoroughly convinced, however, that I'd lost everything -- including all the little writing projects I'd filed away over the past twenty months I've had this computer. I've accrued quite a lot of stories and scenarios and outlines, believe it or not, and I've now learned that I need to back those suckers up in case my hard drive decides a nice, sound crashing is in order.

Anyway. This is the blog post you should've gotten about seventy-two hours ago:

Tomorrow morning, promptly at 6 a.m., my roommates and I are packing into a two-door car and heading for New York, the city I called home all last summer. Seeing as how it's New York and it's my first roommate road trip, I'm sure I'm going to come back with plenty of writing material. I'm taking a Moleskine with me, and I won't let it out of my sight the whole time. Plus, I'll be Twittering and Posterous-(ing?) the entire experience. So I think I'll have a pretty good record when I get back. :D

So yeah. When I saw that my connection to the World Wide Web was being severed before I'd get the chance to update, I copy-and-pasted the post into a Notepad file on my desktop. I know, I'm a complete nerd. You knew that already, though, too.

And, if you're wondering, I ended up not taking my full-sized Moleskine with me. Nor did I Posterous a single moment, and my cell phone battery even decided to fail me at some points throughout the trip, preventing a thorough Tweeting of my experiences. But, I did buy a good old-fashioned photo album, and I plan to print good old-fashioned pictures off to tuck in its little slots. Yeah. If you were wondering.

Eureka: An exclamation indicating sudden discovery.

Following is the epic chronicle of how I finally gained inspiration to write my ten-page play for Theatre Appreciation.

Yesterday, I had a math exam in the afternoon that was causing a stress headache. It's math, so that's to be expected. When I got out of class, I went with Monica and Lauryn to get coffee before our next classes. I figured caffeine would either stifle or intensify my headache, and anyway, my headache cleared once my stupid math exam was over.

But it took twenty whole minutes to get my grande white chocolate mocha because the only woman behind the counter completely forgot about me while she filled a dozen more orders placed after mine. By the time I got to my American lit class, coffee in hand, my perfect front-row seat was occupied -- by none other than Creepy Carl. I ended up having to sit right behind him.

By that point, I was fuming, but at least my coffee was delicious. And while I was only paying half my attention to my professor's lecture, something in the short story we were reading magically triggered a story in my head that I just knew would be perfect for my play.

Anyway, I completely stopped listening to the lecture while I wrote down my ideas. Afterward, I ran straight up to the computer lab, typed my brainstorm in a coherent and neat outline, emailed the file to myself, and started writing my script in standard stage play format.

Just as a note: I don't thing stage playwrighting is my thing. I liked it and all, but I think I'll need more practice and fewer restrictions (like I have on my assignment) to improve.

I can't expose a human weakness on the stage unless I know it through having it myself.

I was playing games on i'minlikewithyou today with Monica and I thought, Hey, I should write my play about people spending too much of their lives on the Internet. And now I'm blogging about it. Awesome.

Even those who fall short of the word goal will be applauded for making a heroic attempt.

Also, the deadline for my ten-page play assignment continues to creep closer and closer. I'm pretty sure it's due March 16th, which seems like far enough into the future except Friday is my last day of classes before such a date. I have spring break next week, when I won't be getting anything done.

I must, must, must get my act together and write most of this play before Friday. I need to change my theatrical form to something like realism, domestic drama, or play of ideas. I emailed my professor to change from tragicomedy because the ONE story I have in my mind that would work as a stage play simply couldn't be forced into a tragicomedic mold.

Help.

Oh, and NaNoWriMo's Script Frenzy '09 will be starting two weeks after my ten-page play is due, and I'd be an idiot if I didn't just use the assignment as the first 10% of the Script Frenzy goal of 100 pages. Because honestly, something like Script Frenzy is just an experiment, right? And I should take advantage of the opportunity, because there's nothing to lose.

One ought only to write when one leaves a piece of one's own flesh in the inkpot, each time one dips one's pen.

For the past couple of days, I've been getting inspiration to write from the most random sources. The 60-degree, thunderstorming weather we had on Friday became treacherous snow and freezing rain on Saturday, in turn transforming to a regular blizzard and 20-degree chill yesterday. I always get a longing for something awesome to happen during strange weather, especially thunderstorms. And the dangerous drive on Saturday night back from a leadership retreat to Bristol, VA made me irrationally excited instead of fearful for my life.

On top of the weather, everyday activities like listening to music, playing games, and Twittering the conversations I have with my friends so I can remember them for future material have made me wish I had more time to write. Even with today, a snow day, I was too busy to slow down long enough to let my mind rest in some breezy narrative. I can't wait until it's my full-time job and I don't have to let school be my first priority.

Math is like love: simple in theory, but easily complicated.

Today I did math homework for at least an hour and a half, and most of the time, I just wanted to cry. For some bit of understanding, please refer to my Twitter updates over the course of the hour: 1, 2, 3, then 4. There's are a reason I love something so completely opposite from math, and plan to make it my career.

I want you to say whatever is on your mind because you know we have a 7-second delay.

Tonight's 81st Academy Awards made me see the film industry differently. Maybe it's the combination of my theatre class, the close attention I paid during the four hour show, or my new endeavors in writing, but I was able to distinguish the art in filmmaking like I've never really done before. I know it's always been there and I'm kind of an idiot for only just now noticing, but since the last few months of my life have been terribly involved in a certain genre of art, I can see why a night like Oscars is so important in the filmmakers' lives.

Something about tonight's show made me want to be a part of that industry. Maybe someday I'll be the one, accepting my screenwriter's award, clamoring onto my soapbox and, at some point, thanking the Academy, and my mom, and God.

Also, one day it'd be fun to meet Hugh Jackman and thank him for being so incredibly adorable all night long. That had to be exhausting.

I was thinking how nothing lasts, and what a shame that is.

May I introduce you to the list of all the things I should be doing today?

• studying for American lit midterm tomorrow
• reading, quiz-taking, and essaying for American history
• writing a criticism for my university's production of The Crucible
• completing online homework for my math class
• brainstorming/markup for my ten-page play
  
• reading the Bible

Instead, I am:

• listening to music on Pandora
• thinking about spring break and the trip to New York City I'm taking with my roommates (in 17 days!)
• wondering how I'm going to get my hair cut when I go home for spring break
• thinking about the weird dream I had this morning, involving twin baby boys, Brad Pitt in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and a Victorian-era finishing school
• trying to conjure a way to find time for the Oscars tonight, and wishing I'd seen more Oscar-worthy movies this year
  
• wondering why I like to put links in my blog posts -- though it can probably be attributed to my love for Wikipedia
• wishing I wasn't too distracted by the other stories in my head to keep moving forward on the project I have running now

So, that's what's on my mind. I'll let you know how all that works out.

The Internet is just a world passing around notes in a classroom.

I have friends who I know exclusively online. Out of the whole group, I've met one of them in person. The rest I connect with their senses of humor, their frequent tweets, and their profile pictures on Facebook.

When I write, sometimes I think of them. I think of how diverse they are, and I'm challenged to write for them, because they are book lovers like I am. When I can, I'm going to write a character into one of my novels who is collectively all these girls I know thanks to a podcast. This girl will be intelligent, witty, analytical, sensitive, and beautiful. And they'll be the first ones to buy my book in their Barnes & Nobles all across the country (and in Norway, too).

Who, being loved, is poor?

Also, I forgot to mention that my Valentine's Day adventure turned out to be a really great night -- possibly the best February 14th I've ever had (which isn't saying much). If the relationships that were put into motion on Saturday night never pan out, at least I will always have the experience for writing material, entertainment for future readers who had a grim sort of Valentine's Day and need a little literary lovin'.

Which, honestly, is the way I try to look at everything nowadays. It's a nice outlook to have.

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

The past couple of days, I've been working on all the preparations to get the free proof copy of my NaNoWriMo novel from Amazon.com-owned self-publisher CreateSpace. It's been stressful, yet oddly exciting. It's really been great to experience this tiny little glimpse into the world of publishing -- what my life is, theoretically, going to be like if I choose it as my career.

On another note, I apologize for posting such concise messages the past couple weeks. I've been busier than ever, and writing/planning in my spare time. I'm still working on the same story as of late, but I'm nowhere near burnt out on it, which is a good sign?

Anyway, writing has been my award for myself only after accomplishing the day's tasks. So as I settle down now in my bed, I'm exhausted, but not really sleepy yet. So, most likely, I've got a couple paragraphs in me.

This is the right job for me.

And I a maid at your window, to be your Valentine.

I have never, ever had a date on Valentine's Day. And today, I'm going on a very sketchy, blind-group-date with the friends of a friend of my friend, and my roommates. The whole ordeal has huge potential for a very impressive disaster, and, of course, the likelihood of presenting a whole evening of future writing material.

I have two months until I turn twenty. And in one month, I'll be in New York City.

I do, actually, really enjoy my life. Maybe that's just because it's Saturday and I slept in until 10:30.

A natural ebb and flow in the creative process.

Today, after several days of struggling with a persistent and malicious case of writer's block, I was finally able to crank out a page and a half of conversational, relaxed summary.

It felt so good, and the material's actually something I'll be proud of in a few hours when I'm more awake.

He neglected to write down his idea, preferring to finish his toast instead.

Silly me. I kind of thought after Wednesday's revelation I'd be able to go into a writing fury with my new-found direction. Instead, life went on with the usual writer's block, worrying about American history homework and my math exam and my sister's visit next weekend.

I had imagined an outpouring of dialogue and narrative, but instead, I've just been tediously (and slowly) outlining character backgrounds, working up to a new summary draft.

I won't get too spiritual on you, but I do kind of wonder what I'm doing wrong.

This is my prayer in the desert, when all that's within me runs dry.

I don't really know how to explain what happened last night, but I'll try.

If you like to write, you probably understand what I mean when I say that some things inspire me to write in a sort of uncontrollable way. Certain songs, or movies, or games, or conversations with my friends... It's really a pretty fun way to live, with your imagination running rampant and free. But last night, our campus praise band played this song at Campus Church, and, not for the first time, a story began to take shape in my mind.

I don't know if it's the lyrics or the way the song sounds, or just the way God can move through things like music, but I realized last night why I was having such awful writer's block the past few days.

The story I'd had in my head wasn't making much sense. My characters didn't seem realistic, the plot was hitting a brick wall, and I had no motivation to try to work it out. I wasn't ready to give up, though, and now I see why God wasn't letting me give in. He had something different in mind, and I'm totally cool letting Him take the reins.

I don't know if that made sense. Hopefully, I got my point across.

Books! And cleverness! There are more important things.

So just now I learned the difference between "each other" and "one another". I Googled "grammar each other" (I'm the master of Googling for obscure facts -- ask me about the time I Googled "guns heiress house" to great success) and found that website. Each other refers to two people, and one another refers to more than two. So, to say "Rose and I enjoy hanging out with each other when our roommates are gone for the weekend" is correct, but "Lauryn, Shalie, and Monica are all home for the weekend, but if they were here, we'd all be enjoying each other's company" is incorrect. So yeah.

I love learning the proper uses of grammar rules. It makes me feel like I'm one step closer to literary awesomeness.

On another note, this is the last day of January, so I guess it's as good a time as any to stop titling my posts with Harry Potter quotations. Problem is, I don't have a clue how to theme my February titles yet. Sigh.

Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?

Some days, when I'm writing and I get that nagging desperation to just get it out of my head and onto paper (or, less romantically, Microsoft Word), it's really a good thing after all. Because when the time comes that I just want a story to help me escape and the perfect book has yet to present itself, I can always write my own. I'm very thankful for this talent with which God has blessed me.

A day like today is going to need all the distractions I can get in my free time, and I think the happy stress of trying to find just the right word or whatever is going to do the trick quite nicely.

I take my hat off to you -- or, I would, if I were not afraid of showering you with spiders.

I just took my NaNoWriMo 2008 participants' survey. I was so thankful for the opportunity to share with the Office of Letters and Light staff my experience as a first-year NaNo. I might send them a little testimonial about my November and how much their hard work means to me, but then I realize I have made little by way of progress on my NaNovel, and I don't want to have to admit that! =X But I did purchase an OLL t-shirt though, jumping at the chance to get great $10 apparel.

Recalling my November, I got kind of pitifully emotional, and I'm more than ready for it to come around again, serving up a nice, hearty helping of motivation and glorious goal-reaching. What a great team the OLL are.

You sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.

A read a book yesterday -- Kristin Cashore's Graceling -- which made me feel totally capable of publishing my own YA novel one day. It wasn't that Graceling was bad. It does, however, make me feel much less hopeless. It's a good feeling. And confidence is important.

The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure.

I'm quite confident that my Twitter account holds everything I'll ever need to recount my life in a memoir or autobiography. The updates I send and the conversations I hold through text message with people I have never really met are some of the most honest -- albeit, occasionally trivial on the surface -- notes on a life lived.

I just finished reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith and I have a better understanding of reality. I can't really explain what I mean or how I feel about that book. But if ever I write a memoir, I hope those who read it take away a better understanding of those around them, and the differences in the way others live, and what that means for the world as a whole.

"'Dear God,' she prayed, 'let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry...have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere -- let me be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.'" (p. 421 of my edition)

I hear you, Francie. I hear you.

Time is making fools of us again.

I haven't blogged in a while, as you may have noticed. If you hadn't noticed, let me spare you the inevitable date comparison: it's been about ten days. Which, to me, constitutes a minor failure in the blogosphere.

The thing is, I've had little to say by way of this blog in the past ten days. I haven't been writing at all because of laziness and pure slothfulness -- it's been my last week of Christmas vacation and I've savored it. I've been blissfully distracted by iilwy and the Vultures. It's been glorious.

Also, my computer's been on the fritz. My Microsoft Word freaked out on me and my disc drive technically disappeared off my computer just in time for me to receive my new Microsoft 2007 installation discs in the mail. After a long, hard-fought battle, in which I bravely wrangled and outsmarted a machine, I restored Word to its rightful place on my PC and I'm ready for a new semester at school.

My first semester as an official, honest-to-God English major.

Glorious.