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