tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86400208219387569072024-02-20T18:21:10.878-08:00Inky Wings"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer; a bird sings because it has a song." - Maya AngelouAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-26818134750373233072014-08-02T17:57:00.001-07:002014-08-02T17:57:15.266-07:00Developments.Developments! How sweet the sound of that word. I'd like to take a minute to thank my sunshine Mary Jane for her utter brilliance in those sutuations in which I was completely and utterly out of ideas. I'd driven myself into an amount of corners that it is physically impossible to have in a room. Or a story. Okay, it wasn't that bad, but I needed help. And then my sunshine came speaking words of wisdom which I beg everyone to take heed of if you are writing a story whose antagonist you know very little about: figure out what the antagonist wants. You cannot continue if you don't know what he/she/they/it want/s. Otherwise, how can you tell exactly what the protagonist/s is/are fighting for and/or against? <div>My problem with the Web was that I didn't know why they were stealing from everyone. Money is a relevant motivator but also extremely boring. It had to be deeper. Everything has to be deeper. </div><div>So, while pondering Janey's advice at 2AM, the divine floodgates of inspiration were thrown open and, since I was standing there pounding on them, they hit me square in the face and threw me back some miles - right back to the drawing board, on which was written "RETHINK." I realized then that if what I had couldn't work, I had to untangle the Web and piece it back together another way. By 2:21am that morning I had decided that the traitor I'd previously mentioned was actually the leader of the Web, which will need a new name because it's not really a web at the moment. This traitor, who we will nickname Joe because what does River Song say? has a world domination plan or something to that effect. Basically he has a problem with his dead father, who was a crappy human being. Wellllll, he was very human, and that's the problem. But anyway, Joe feels like he has to prove something by doing all this evil stuff. <i>Nicely worded, Ashley. We can tell you're a writer.</i> ๐</div><div>I also decided on the circumstances of Meg (my MC)'s brainwashing: several days before, she and Noah (her partner) were on a mission (the nature of which I have not yet thought out) where they stumbled upon the Web, which at the time is only a budding threat to the world - Nife hadn't had any dealings with them yet (besides of course what Joe was doing but none of them knew about that). They also discover that's where the heretofore missing agent Will is, in a rather brainwashed state as I believe I mentioned in my last post. So Meg pressures Franklin Russell, one of the leaders of Nife, to send someone to recover him. But of course Joe managed to engineer that mission which Franklin finally agreed to send her on so that she would get captured, because he couldn't have her doing her own research and finding out he was the Nife traitor. </div><div>I'm hoping the floodgates of inspiration open again tonight because I'm still working out the details of how she managed to end up brainwashed on a beach in light of these new developments. But I like them better than what I had before, so I shall persevere and figure out a way! ๐I hope this post made sense. I'm a bit tired. Thanks for reading!๐ I'll try to post about Meg very very soon. Maybe directly after this post. Maybe tomorrow. I'm not sure xD</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-18295978420935010762014-07-29T21:16:00.002-07:002014-07-29T21:16:26.112-07:00A New Story Is Always Exciting Unless You've Been Excited About Far Too Many...(that should be the title of an RK song)<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Hoopes, I did it again!</i> I'm writing yet another book. Because apparently who cares about all my other ones, right? *sigh*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This particular novel-in-progress is about a girl named Megan Foster. Well, Meg. And her best friend Noah Farley. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Meg and Noah are spy partners. No, don't leave, it's really not THAT cliche. I hope. I pray. Please not. They work for a spy organization indefinitely labelled Nife. Nife is a force fighting against the other spy organization, called (also indefinitely) The Web. (Because knives cut webs, but Knife was too cheesy to even call it that short-term so I got rid of the K.) I'm still working on exactly what the Web's goal is, and why Nife is so determined to slice all its silky threads. But I do know that the Web has a very rude habit of capturing agents and brainwashing them to use them for their own purposes. (Sadly, I am in the dark as to what those purposes are. Help.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Meg was sent on a mission into the heart of the Web and never came back. Okay, never is too long a word. She didn't return at the appointed time and Noah set out to find her. He searched for four days before finding her alive and well on a beach - with absolutely no memory of who he was or who she was or anything that had happened to her. The conclusion was obvious to him: she'd been taken and brainwashed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To take her back to Nife would mean placing her in solitary confinement (in case she'd been hardwired with a mission from the enemy) while undergoing some ridiculous memory treatment, and Noah didn't want her to go through that. So he contacts their best friend London, a British spy of Nife who is from London. His parents were very patriotic. London agrees to help...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">do what?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yes, I have no idea. What I do have an idea of is that there is a traitor in Nife, a very powerful leader who actually orchestrated the brainwashing of Meg at the order of their contacts in the Web. Not only that, but several years back this person also caused London's older brother and genius Will to have the same thing happen to him, and he's never been recovered - he's still working with the Web, totally unaware of who he actually is. So it's pretty hard on London when he finds out that, just like his best friend / big brother, Meg was also brainwashed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If I may try to paint a picture of the world this is set in, I believe it's sort of a modern Renaissance. People are inventing new things. Not necessarily super futuristic, but the world is discovering new things and lots of big people want the little guy's stuff. So that's where the Web comes in. They send their silk tendrils out and steal things for money. Nife was raised to stop these people. Their mission is to snip off all the webs. I'm still working on a motive other than being genuinely nice guys who don't like thieves. Everyone knows stuff doesn't end up that way. Just look at S.H.I.E.L.D. But there's also something deeper to the Web. Like I said, still working on it. I have actually been working on this novel for a long time, but I was too afraid to post about it because that would be making too much of a commitment. But I figure I'd hardly posted all year so I may as well give you guys something for pressing that Follow button. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I think that's actually all I know, or most of it. The rest is spoilers. I'll work on character posts as soon as I can, but Meg and Noah are really the only characters I know quite a bit about. See you then. Also, tomorrow I will renounce that I ever wrote this because it's 12:00 at night and this post, undoubtedly, is awful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Thanks for reading! And putting up with me. And suggestions on the aforementioned missing aspects of the Web and Nife are greatly appreciated. Also, there are certain people reading this who know the name of that traitor within Web. SHH. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-26590491618758134082014-07-27T13:19:00.001-07:002014-07-27T13:19:04.922-07:00A Poem About StormsI wrote a poem about storms:<div><br></div><div><i>I don't like storms.</i></div><div><i>Nopenopenopenopenopenopenopenope.</i></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-90987978551041764642014-06-17T08:09:00.001-07:002014-06-17T08:40:27.110-07:00On This Day in History 2Who knew the Statue of Liberty is modelled after someone's mama? You do now. <div><br></div><div>The French sculptor Frederic-Auguste Bartholdi, with a bit of assistance from Gustave Eiffel (YES the guy who designed the Eiffel Tower), used his own mother as a model for the more than 305-foot tall statue that has welcomed immigrants for 126 years. Just goes to show ya, mothers shape the world. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVegQua7uBz3CTki1WYyLFfHXbDsH8adCdM2nXwHEs1vDm0daYyOiLwjC1aEXyNQypWPSXHOC9Q4yWCN_wyphHquaKUgpPKWC8VW_K6nzx59woxlpYjC32inpuQmum0kPCKQSMTHBV_U/s640/blogger-image-1340906783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVegQua7uBz3CTki1WYyLFfHXbDsH8adCdM2nXwHEs1vDm0daYyOiLwjC1aEXyNQypWPSXHOC9Q4yWCN_wyphHquaKUgpPKWC8VW_K6nzx59woxlpYjC32inpuQmum0kPCKQSMTHBV_U/s640/blogger-image-1340906783.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, June 17th, 1885 saw the dissassembled Lady Liberty arrive in New York City Harbor in 350 individual pieces, packed away in more than 200 cases. The following year it was reassembled and dedicated by US President Grover Cleveland, who says of it, "We will not forget that Liberty has here made her home, nor shall her chosen altar be neglected." </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGT1YALMnvy-BkpoiQgFBFIiN6xahD3m0HD7wfhyphenhyphendwDudd9LBSf7FGWEytFZ_UfNUb9NzaoroaQO79_IsL9rsykddTkc1zo289HCU9WpRvYCOQaDy82XhicO0qQ66XvesSWXf7dKEDWus/s640/blogger-image-572256235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGT1YALMnvy-BkpoiQgFBFIiN6xahD3m0HD7wfhyphenhyphendwDudd9LBSf7FGWEytFZ_UfNUb9NzaoroaQO79_IsL9rsykddTkc1zo289HCU9WpRvYCOQaDy82XhicO0qQ66XvesSWXf7dKEDWus/s640/blogger-image-572256235.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The French gifted the statue to the US in commemoration of the American Revolution and a century of friendship between France and the US. It cost France an estimated $250,000 - more than $5.5 million in today's money.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53DAHjcNxeKMcJl8ZRFCMK98mTfKPB1RRUfxw2BVEntDTMiSAxsK2DvlG4dWRVPKY9xByxwB7nP38g0Y2nAJEiZbrsvUodrHZ_yVdX5rRXz_mYzvecOKGRqpLzSeypyPRuKnWyZMdG-Q/s640/blogger-image--1629418016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53DAHjcNxeKMcJl8ZRFCMK98mTfKPB1RRUfxw2BVEntDTMiSAxsK2DvlG4dWRVPKY9xByxwB7nP38g0Y2nAJEiZbrsvUodrHZ_yVdX5rRXz_mYzvecOKGRqpLzSeypyPRuKnWyZMdG-Q/s640/blogger-image--1629418016.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><br></div><div> The copper and iron figure, originally copper-colored but changed by natural processes in time to be greenish-blue, was the tallest structure in New York City at the time. It stood on Bedloe Island, whose name changed to Liberty Island after the iconic statue came to rest on it.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMVUx7WAsHvL_1qx-_BQxjsOa402N7I3KRx7qNtlDs4GpRTb7lw-GYs9-FXKmqhAWVhTqrGSVC6U5_d98MWwz-anV-zUGnmWxRdjvi3TC29-nS5o0bUEKH8sU5jEWa3P_3dGjxHbw-bg/s640/blogger-image-340419747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMVUx7WAsHvL_1qx-_BQxjsOa402N7I3KRx7qNtlDs4GpRTb7lw-GYs9-FXKmqhAWVhTqrGSVC6U5_d98MWwz-anV-zUGnmWxRdjvi3TC29-nS5o0bUEKH8sU5jEWa3P_3dGjxHbw-bg/s640/blogger-image-340419747.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-3750223538815342362014-06-16T17:29:00.001-07:002014-06-16T18:17:21.968-07:00On This Day In HistorySo, I'm not even going to mention the fact that this is my first blog post in months. Sorry. Instead, let's skip directly to the purpose of this post. xD<div><br></div><div>I have always loved history. It's fantastic. So interesting and rich....and I especially delight in discovering what was happening some day past whose anniversary is today. </div><div><br></div><div>"On this day in history" (June 16th), 130 years ago in 1884, the very first rollercoaster of America was established on Coney Island. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLuXcS4qtAGLplnLe7WXIy7zhP1i3P75OFVZv578xXxpQVizpFCY_tfxC38RwKsSqxQKFFjKm5WXnitCJ-hguG9rX_LOniXSbDZnZMOcxTkBnXM7Hh6d6AAA9DR62Rg63KYoiM9J4Rtk/s640/blogger-image-2094457613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLuXcS4qtAGLplnLe7WXIy7zhP1i3P75OFVZv578xXxpQVizpFCY_tfxC38RwKsSqxQKFFjKm5WXnitCJ-hguG9rX_LOniXSbDZnZMOcxTkBnXM7Hh6d6AAA9DR62Rg63KYoiM9J4Rtk/s640/blogger-image-2094457613.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>It was built by LaMarcus Thompson and it was called "The Gravity Pleasure Switchback Railway". It ran an invigorating six miles per hour and was compsed of a few gentle, wavy hills. It cost a nickel to ride and was an instant success. </div><div>The Switchback got its name from the way the cars would reach the end of the track, which ran 600 miles along West Tenth Street from Surf Avenue to the ocean, and get switched back to return to the beginning after the passengers had left the car. It had the capacity for 1,600 riders an hour! Thompson seems to have in a few ways based his design on the Mauch Chunk Switchback Railway, a coal-mining train that had begun to offer its services as a thrill ride in 1827. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGp_Bj13rzu3r4NNbcUgOjonx7c8qJm8wc_xNhExFyCf8AKuZcZH6zYRKeUljWMEOeCtCJFouT3745l5iohU-E7nXw4ZfeHRKK_dX5NOxuO812XtCLz5wkvx-hjMmWczjxGsqI7aMp6Y/s640/blogger-image--1554563860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGp_Bj13rzu3r4NNbcUgOjonx7c8qJm8wc_xNhExFyCf8AKuZcZH6zYRKeUljWMEOeCtCJFouT3745l5iohU-E7nXw4ZfeHRKK_dX5NOxuO812XtCLz5wkvx-hjMmWczjxGsqI7aMp6Y/s640/blogger-image--1554563860.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>LaMarcus Adna Thompson (March 8th, 1848 - May 8th, 1919) worked as a carpenter and then a grocery store owner before his eventual rollercoaster-designing career earned him the name "The father of gravity". He patented nearly thirty designs for gravity rides in his lifetime. He also became the managing director for the L. A. Thompson Scenic Railway Company, 220 West 42nd St., founded in 1895. L.A.T.A.R.C. manufactured rollercoasters and other instruments for amusement park rides for parks all over the world. </div><div>Thompson died at his home in Thompson Park, Glen Cove, Long Island having led a fairly successful life. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I don't particularly like rollercoasters, but this was still cool to learn about :D It's so cool to realize - sometimes I look at time like a cabinet. You pull a drawer open and inside William Wallace is fighting for freedom. You pull open another one and the Wright brothers are making history with the first airplanes. Inside each drawer in the cabinet, history is happening. It's exciting to think of me sitting here typing this up in the June 16th, 2014 drawer, while in another drawer labelled June 16th, The Gravity Pleasure Switchback Railway has finished construction and become open to the public in 1884! (And nobody better try to lecture me on how time works. Hushhhh.) </div><div><br></div><div>I think I might be posting On This Day In Historys every day, because it's awesome and I should post more often xD</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-37083635646114191322014-05-04T12:27:00.001-07:002014-05-04T13:36:01.229-07:00An Unexpected Award.The well respected and super cool Trinity of http://www.quillinherquiver.blogspot.com has awesomely nominated me for the Liebster Award! <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8a5XzlG-pO-wTkbxeSoO_Mq-CFQW6Imor-nvd_laljEl7DiefoRbNpNzxgykQyCU38WUrdhqaKZmFJ2jy8kzSaJCK6CK54BZbWNo8gGDxs96qqOE7mCL9NrMAYdn0TmDRRADc5erlRw/s640/blogger-image--1105140924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8a5XzlG-pO-wTkbxeSoO_Mq-CFQW6Imor-nvd_laljEl7DiefoRbNpNzxgykQyCU38WUrdhqaKZmFJ2jy8kzSaJCK6CK54BZbWNo8gGDxs96qqOE7mCL9NrMAYdn0TmDRRADc5erlRw/s640/blogger-image--1105140924.jpg"></a></div>If you don't know what it is (I didn't till I got nominated and had to google it), it seems to be an award bloggers give to other bloggers because they are friends and stuff. Apparently Liebster in German basically means sugar and spice and everything nice. The rules: <div><ul style="padding: 0px 2.5em; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><li style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thank and link back to the person who nominated you.</span></li><li style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">List 11 facts about yourself.</span></li><li style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Answer the 11 questions asked by the blogger who nominated you.</span></li><li style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Nominate 9 bloggers who have fewer than 200 followers (you canโt nominate the blogger who nominated you).</span></li><li style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Ask them 11 questions.</span></li><li style="padding: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Let them know about the nomination.</span></li></ul><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Now, 11 facts about myself...............</span></div></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">1. I sleep with a pillowpet. She's a red puppy and her name is Valentine. Best investment I ever made.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">2. I watch the Backyardigans. *not ashamed* </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">3. I'm a packrat. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">4. I carry binoculars around in my purse in case I see awesome birds.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">5. The first guy I ever had a crush on was Prince Char from Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine. <3</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">6. I am intensely afraid of storms (e.g. heavy wind, heavy rain, very dark clouds, and sometimes thunder and lightning. Oddly enough, I'm less afraid of thunder than I am of heavy winds and rain.)</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">7. I love to watch water but I find it incredibly boring to be in. I also can't swim and I have a phobia of drowning, thus causing me to pretty much steer clear of water entirely. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">8. Pretty sure my first word was "Daddy".</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">9. My favorite food as a baby was pears.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">10. John Wayne was my hero growing up. And Johnny Gage & Roy DeSoto.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">11. I once named my hair Sally.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And now Trinity's 11 questions for me: </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">1. <b>If you could pick one word to describe yourself, what would it be? (Boring, commonplace, ordinary, regular, and run-of-the-mill are all banned.)</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Blessed. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">2. <b>What is your favorite thing to drink?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Sprite, A&W, and lemonade are all superb.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">3. <b>What fandoms are you in? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Good Gallifrey, what a question. Obviously Doctor Who. Sherlock [BBC, Granada, and canon]; Percy Jacksonnnn <33; Marvel [Captain America for the win]; Psych; Star Wars; Star Trek; Jane Austen; Nancy Drew; Hardy Boys; and Tolkien. Pretty sure that's everything I love that actually has a fandom. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">4. <b>How many ongoing writing projects are you working on? (Novels, essays, short stories, etc. Blog posts don't count.)</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Well. I'm only actually working on one thing right now; obviously I have a million unfinished and abandoned projects.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">5. <b>Of those projects, which has the highest word count and what is it? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Um, this thingy probably has about a hundred words so far. :P</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">6. <b>Have you ever had to go to the emergency room? If so, why? (If you feel comfortable sharing.)</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Thank Jesus my Savior, I've never had cause to go to the emergency room. Except when I went with Mom after my older brother injured himself peeling a carrot.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">7. <b>If you could live anywhere besides where you're living now, where would you live? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Ehh. I love Michigan. I might move somewhere with more trees, but definitely not out of Michigan. If I did, I might move to Kentucky or Tennessee. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">8. <b>Who would you most like to meet in person? (Excepting Jesus).</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">My awesome best friends, Emily, Robyn, Janey, and Johanna.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">9. <b>Your family and pets are safe and sound and you have two minutes to grab some things out of your burning house. What do you take? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">She says "grab some thing<i>s</i>"...</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Valentine, my NASB study Bible, my scrapbooking stuff, my journal and my pencil pouch. Oh, and probably my letter packet that contains every letter and envelope I ever receive. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">10. <b>What is your biggest fear?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Probably tornadoes. Lilapsophobia, y'all. But if you want me to get philosophical and deep, my biggest fear is losing my mom somehow.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">11. <b>Which is more awesome and would win in a fight, pirates or ninjas?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Pirates, because Barbossa. <3</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And now for my nominees! I don't think I even know nine bloggers, but here are those I do know and love.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The beautiful Johanna at http://www.alongexpectedblog.blogspot.com</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Megan Jane at http://www.pitchforkprincess.blogspot.com (seriously guys, brilliant stuff here.)</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Brian at http://www.vestigesofintelligence.com (don't worry, Brian, you don't <i>have</i> to do an answer post xD) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">My sister Carly at http://www.knittedtogether.blogspot.com</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">MY MOMMY at http://www.mixednutts.wordpress.com</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Mary at http://www.onemustalwaysbecarefulofbooks.wordpress.com. She hasn't posted much, but she encouraged me via Pinterest a LOT when I was writing Hitchhiker and this is the perfect opportunity for a grateful shout-out :)</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Emilita over at http://www.ramblingsofarestlesshomeshooler.wordpress.com. <3 </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Robynia at http://thelittlewildgirl.blogspot.com. One of my best friends deserves this award of course, even if there is only one post on her blog XD <3</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Margaret at http://www.blendersandphobias.blogspot.com. :D</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I thiiiiiiink that's all. WHOA, I made nine! Incredible. Now, 11 questions for my nominees. xD </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>1. Who was your first fictional character crush? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>2. What fictional place would you pack up and move to in a jiffy?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>3. Which are cooler: Daleks or Cybermen?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>4. What's one talent you desperately wish you had?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>5. Describe yourself in one word. Don't use boring or ordinary or any of synonyms of those words.</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>6. Have you ever taken the Myers-Briggs personality quiz? If so, what did you score? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>7. Who do you most want to meet in person?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>8. Books or Nooks?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>9. Your zombie apocalypse weapon of choice is...</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>10. What's one thing you thought you would become as a kid that you haven't yet? Are you still planning on it?</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>11. Are you more of a dog person or a cat person? </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><br></b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Wheeew. Finally done. Till next time (which probably will be in years since I obviously fail at blogs)!</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> - Ash</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-74111945186846788522014-01-07T14:52:00.001-08:002014-01-07T14:52:19.633-08:00So We Meet Again.<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ahem. We haven't spoken in a while. Very lazy of me. <i>Takk for sist</i>! I haven't exactly been inspired of late, what with my curling up in a ball and shunning the world so I could read Sherlock Holmes instead of writing. But, lately I have written a little bit. Nothing interesting, and certainly nothing worthy of posting here. But I thought I would just convey a bit of my ideas to you, as you have been unfailingly longsuffering and amazing and fantastic by continuing to be subscribed to this dusty old blog.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I received one of the best presents ever for Epiphany/King's Day/whatever you call it. January 6th is, if you don't know, the day we celebrate the three kings or wise men who visited Jesus a couple years after His birth. Anyway. I got the most brilliant Captain America shield shirt. It's my favorite style - non-Vneck, and not tight but also not shapeless.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzN3Q1583UiCJ6NLU0GwG7-tMLuQ2X2iZItUGcsoUXgNjtMBtVlmGmBeVDv8kvyRrtkkgvRQDRWIm-i5DpVLXbKBCV00dcyU5sdWjMrNDQV2zHirIF9IbntBvaOIZ1jqGpg1SZamUYhJk/s1600/cap+shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzN3Q1583UiCJ6NLU0GwG7-tMLuQ2X2iZItUGcsoUXgNjtMBtVlmGmBeVDv8kvyRrtkkgvRQDRWIm-i5DpVLXbKBCV00dcyU5sdWjMrNDQV2zHirIF9IbntBvaOIZ1jqGpg1SZamUYhJk/s1600/cap+shirt.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I could go on for hours about this thing that I don't ever want to stop wearing. But anyway, it prompted me into thinking about writing about superheroes. Not that I don't know how cliche that could be if I'm not careful. But I started writing nonetheless. So far all that has happened is a girl named Audrey Glory (totally not the official name but I wrote it at 12:00 AM so it was the best I could come up with on the fly) walked to the mailbox and pulled out a letter that said ------------</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNNNNN.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I actually have no idea what it said. :P Still thinking on that. But the letter will somehow change her life. If that isn't already cliche, I don't know what is. *sigh* </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sooooooo, in addition to getting the Cap shirt I also got a Sherlock scarf for Christmas!! And I already had a TARDIS BFF necklace (the other half of which belongs to my Janey), and a wooden Sting created by my ingenious friend Brian. So I am feeling rather fangirly right now and it feels great. Anyway. I am dragging this out because longer blog posts make me feel better, but honestly most of you probably don't read all of my ridiculousness anyway. Don't blame you. If you are still reading, I must bid you farewell. Maybe sometime in the near future I will actually post something from my outrageously cliche superhero story.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Also you may be interested in what I have been doing to Hitchhiker. I am totally renovating </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">and replotting it. </span></span><br />
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- <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ashley</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">P.S. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Takk for sist </i>means "Nice to see you again" in Norwegian.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">P.S.S. I really really really really really really really really really want this.</span></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-72827862988956126562013-11-23T16:07:00.000-08:002013-11-23T16:07:02.916-08:00IT IS FINISHED<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">HI GUYS MY NAME IS ASHLEY AND I JUST FINISHED NANOWRIMO.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, my story ended up being exactly 24,922 words long. Very tiny, I know. But as I have a habit of writing brief stories, that is as long as the story would go. I even stretched it out about 5K by doing something crazy. But I couldn't stretch it any longer, and since I am part of the Young Writers Program, I can choose the word count I want. :) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyway, so I'm done. WOW. It's been incredible. I am definitely doing it again next year! I had trouble at times and at one point I was 4K behind, but as the NaNoWriMo contract says I have bragging rights, let me say that the day I woke up 4K behind, I went to bed a couple hundred over my all-caught-up word count. Uh huh, that's right. Hopefully in December when I go through it all, I do not find that all the stuff I wrote was junk. o_O</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-81387097105819643722013-11-06T21:07:00.000-08:002013-11-06T21:27:41.060-08:00Sherlock Fanfiction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtytk1wxOkf3OHGtPCTkvm-ApYoj47qcON0mBTxkHi84VSIIxn94ViS7uBfTeUYB-QTSdtU7hgy9MkvVDZWQAqWMuVpXxIvXfKj6dr5YIsiaxEjrsSuMBhKvQWjqvXX-HuiqL0VdTyv4s/s1600/sherlock+lestrade+john.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtytk1wxOkf3OHGtPCTkvm-ApYoj47qcON0mBTxkHi84VSIIxn94ViS7uBfTeUYB-QTSdtU7hgy9MkvVDZWQAqWMuVpXxIvXfKj6dr5YIsiaxEjrsSuMBhKvQWjqvXX-HuiqL0VdTyv4s/s320/sherlock+lestrade+john.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once upon a time, a girl named Ashley watched Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons. Ashley adored that episode. Then Ashley read the story in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes book. Ashley also adored that story. So Ashley was discussing her favorite scene with her awesome friend Janey, and Ashley randomly wrote fanfiction which incorporated this scene into BBC's modern adaption of Sherlock. Janey loved it so much that she begged and begged for Ashley to put it on her blog. So Ashley did, despite her qualms and embarrassment. Here it is.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"We're
not jealous of you...at Scotland Yard. No, sir." Lestrade's face
became sombre, and Sherlock turned to him with an air of surprise.
"No?" he muttered. "No," Lestrade answered
firmly. "We're proud of you." He continued as if afraid
that if he waited a moment longer to speak he would not have
the courage to finish. "There's not a man among us - from the oldest
constable to the youngest officer - who wouldn't be glad to shake you
by the hand." He smiled hesitantly, as if afraid Sherlock would
ridicule him for his sincerity. </span></span>
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</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For
a few seconds Sherlock seemed at a loss for words. Disbelief,
astonishment, and elation chased each other across his features.
Finally he turned to Lestrade, forcing a cool smile. "Thank
you," he said non-chalantly, and then repeated the words with
more sentiment John had ever heard from him. โ<i>Thank you.</i><span style="font-style: normal;">โ</span>
John looked at him in surprise. "Sherlock...you okay?"
Sherlock sniffed. "Of course. Let's....get going." Lestrade
held out his hand, waiting for Sherlock to take it. At first the
consulting detective stared at it with distaste, but in a sudden,
uncharacteristic action he clasped Lestrade warmly by the hand and
smiled briefly. Without another word he abruptly turned and walked
away with John, leaving Lestrade staring at his hand in astonishment.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, there is was. What did you think? No, don't tell me what you think. This is my first ever fanfiction and I'm super embarrassed. Actually yes tell me what you think. No, don't. Well, do whatever you want. I won't look. Actually I will. If anyone wants me to expound on this, I'll do my best....but if it's great just the way it is, yippee.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">-Ashley </span></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-25451883770609528262013-10-29T13:11:00.001-07:002013-10-29T15:58:26.210-07:00Desmond and Debra<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hello my faithful followers. I heartily appreciate the fact that you stick with me through thick and thin, when I'm lazy and when I force feed every silly piece of my writing to you. I have been quite distracted by my recently borrowed <i>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes</i>. Which I might add is now among my top favorite books, along with <i>The Lightning Thief, Pride and Prejudice, The Tutor's Daughter, </i>and much more. Many thanks to my friends Johanna and Zack for introducing me to the world of Sherlock, but also to my friend Brian and Pinterest in general for arousing my interest in BBC's Sherlock, without which I would never have given Sherlock a second glance.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> ANYWAY. Getting a little off track here. Tomorrow is Talk Like Jane Austen Day, and I would strongly recommend Austen's two finest works, <i>Pride and Prejudice </i>and <i>Emma</i>, in preparation. I should throw a Victorian-style ball that day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">MOVING ON. This is not Current Events. :P</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As per my usual routine, I have written a bit based on the following writing prompt:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Write a story that ends with the following sentence: Debra brushed the
sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the
horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sounds interesting and random enough, don't you think?</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFSJMqDUrLFSD31D_G5Lx9ZTzbS5oD0_TOwSvxy-yTr2WsYS4JrBwFsRThV3cDZinkklxrgogerJ9LkTQEK4ewC8tec7yd79pXYUnj5aP7n87rNWZ5ZsD7p9mfIHAL7py6QMq-__7Qo8/s1600/desmond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFSJMqDUrLFSD31D_G5Lx9ZTzbS5oD0_TOwSvxy-yTr2WsYS4JrBwFsRThV3cDZinkklxrgogerJ9LkTQEK4ewC8tec7yd79pXYUnj5aP7n87rNWZ5ZsD7p9mfIHAL7py6QMq-__7Qo8/s1600/desmond.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"It is the silliest thing to ask," Princess Debra said quietly, sidling up to me, "but please do not refuse me. Will you swear to not refuse me?" I gulped. I had never been so close to the Princess before. "I...I swear, my lady," I managed, curtseying. What else could I do? She smiled benevolently at me. "There's a good girl. Now, you must swear to not breathe a word of this to anyone." My eyes widened. The Princess was known for a being a bit reckless, but I never imagined this. "Good girl. Now go and fetch him!" I curtseyed again and stumbled away. At the door of the stables the horse master met me. "Ho, there, where are you off to in such a bumbling hurry?" he exclaimed, and I nearly fainted. "Oh - um - the- the Princess - she asked me to - um - do something for her." He stepped aside and let me pass, probably thinking my rush was childish delight in running an errand for a princess. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I stood nervously at the door of the stall which contained the biggest horse I had ever laid eyes on. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Desmond was magnificent, sand-colored, and terrifying. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His very head might have been half the size of me. He was as tall as two horse masters. His gigantic hooves struck the ground and the sound vibrated through the stone stall and made me nearly jump. His intelligent eyes rolled down to look at me. I tried not to whimper.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I had to pull myself together. The huge stallion could smell my fear and was enjoying it. He tossed his great head, his luxurious mane rippling through the air. My jaw dropped, but I quickly closed it. The beautiful beast would not intimidate me. I had lived with horses for years. I knew how to work with them. The only problem was, all of the horses I'd worked with were at least two sizes smaller than Desmond.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Gathering my courage, I produced his stall's heavy key from the ring on my belt and slowly turned it in the lock. "Hey, Des," I said in a scratchy voice. No, that wouldn't do! I repeated the greeting in a stronger voice. He stared down at me condescendingly. I was sure if he could speak, he wouldn't deem me worthy to speak to.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bridling and saddling him was no easy task. Though he wasn't violent towards me (thank heavens!), he kept turning his head away from me. I continually wondered if he required a person of more dignity to attach his accessories.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Finally, after a short struggle, I managed to slip on his bridle and saddle. The only problem remaining was to get past the horse master. I wondered why I had not thought of that before. How could this great hulking beast grasp the concept of "sneaking"?! My heart sank as I wondered if this was all a ploy to get me in trouble. The Princess was right; letting her ride the High King's horse was a silly request. Perhaps she never meant to ride him at all. I seemed to recall her getting a cook's assistant arrested for supposedly trying to make off with the King's choice chickens when in fact the Princess herself had hidden them. When her deceit was revealed, she argued that it was only a joke and had meant to return the chickens after a little while. No one could arrest a princess, so the matter was dropped and the kitchen girl released.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Suddenly the horse master walked past. I bit back a shriek and ducked. He glanced in Desmond's direction, but didn't stop. I waited until his footsteps receded before I straightened. Then a low whistle sounded very near. I peeked out of the stall and saw the princess. She was beckoning. I nodded and turned away so she wouldn't see my blanched face. Maybe she really did want to try and ride Desmond. This was ridiculous, but I could get in worse trouble for disobeying her than I could for stealing the King's crown.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Taking the reins, reopened the door and tugged. Desmond slowly followed me, keeping his head up as if he could not bear to look at the scraggly peasant who was leading him. I hoped to goodness that no one was around. The huge horse and I crossed the stable yard and made it to safety behind a grove of trees, where Princess Debra had gone to wait. "Ah, she's a beauty," she whispered in admiration. "Your Majesty, permission to speak." "Of course." "Your Majesty, Desmond is a stallion, Your Majesty. He's a boy." Debra looked confused. "Oh," she said, and giggled. I did not see anything about the situation that could be described as humorous. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Debra mounted the stallion with the ease of a well-trained rider. My jaw nearly dropped again at how quickly she was able to hoist herself up onto the great beast. She winked at me. "You may wait here until I come back. Then I expect you to return her safely to her stall. And remember, your lips and mine are sealed." I nodded vigorously. "Your Majesty, permission to speak?" "Yes?" "Desmond is a boy, Your Majesty." She giggled again. "So he is!" And with that, she urged Desmond into a run and was off. My eyes nearly dropped out of my face. Despite his size, Desmond was lithe and graceful as an elf of the great wood. His powerful muscles rippled as he streaked across the sand, blending in with it and kicking up dust. It would have been difficult to see him and his rider in the pale evening light if not for the princess' bright pink blouse.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After a few minutes of watching them gallop further into the flat, deserted plain, I sat against one of the trees and rested. I began to have hope that no one would catch us. Maybe Desmond and the princess would return safely, we would all go to our respective beds, and the night could be forgotten. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I started to doze off at some point, but I was reawakened by shouts and screams. Starting up, I discerned in the distance a giant cloud of dust. Every once in a while a flash of pink showed through. I gasped. Desmond must have been spooked. As silly as the notion was that such a gigantic beast could be scared, I knew it was possible. After all, I'd seen a big dog get spooked by a cat. And in a circus performance I'd seen those great Eastern elephants get their trunks in a twist over a mouse. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Debra screamed again. I wasn't sure what to do. Then I spotted an air balloon in the sky. The glint of metal on one of its occupants told me the King was taking his evening ride. He had probably spotted the helpless Princess Debra by now, though he may not have recognized that it was indeed his daughter, getting tossed around helplessly by the reckless stallion. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The sudden descent of the balloon confirmed that he had seen the scuffle and was coming to the rescue. Breathing a sigh of relief, I raced to the stables to get the horsemaster for additional help. I had promised not to breathe a word to anyone about Debra's riding Desmond, but I had not promised to refrain from saving her life. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Paul, the horse master, was just exiting the stables when I ran into him. "Oh, sir!" I cried. He looked down at me with a puzzled smile. "Oh, sir, Princess Debra is having trouble with her horse out there - look!" I pointed out across the desert to the cloud of dust. Paul strained his eyes for a moment, then turned on his heel and ran to his horse's stall. He mounted it and was off in seconds to help his princess. I was already more at ease, for if anyone could handle a rogue horse - even one so huge as Desmond - it was Paul. Still, I wished to see the outcome myself, so I started towards the spectacle on foot. It was probably too much to hope for, but perhaps the princess would keep her promise to not betray my hand in the matter.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">By the time I arrived at the scene, Paul had settled Desmond down and was holding up the cause of it all - a long, hideous snake. It was dead, probably trampled to death under the horse's massive hooves. Princess Debra was cuddled up in her father's arms, sobbing. I must admit that I was disgusted with her. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Paul jumped off his horse and walked towards me solemnly. My heart dropped down to my feet. He must know what I did. Now I was in the worst trouble I had ever been in, and I had always led a relatively clean life. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Jayne," he said quietly. I looked up, fear in my eyes. But to my surprise, he grinned. "You deserve thanks for running to get me. I fear if you had wasted another second, our dear Princess would have been trampled under the formidable hooves of this great beast." Desmond snorted and I could have sworn that he winked at me. My jaw dropped. "Th-th-thank you, Sir," I stuttered, bowing and curtseying and shaking. He clapped me on the shoulder and walked over to the king and his daughter. "Your Majesty, that was a foolhardy thing to do, it was," he said sternly. "You could have been killed." The King nodded at his daughter. "Yes, child, never do that again. Now come with me back to the castle and rest your poor frazzled nerves." Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Whew. That was a <i>long</i> post. I hope you enjoyed it. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Ashley</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-4236947171421173922013-10-18T13:18:00.000-07:002013-10-18T13:43:22.627-07:00Character Quirks Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So if you'll remember, in my last post I rambled about character quirks and what they were and ways to see them in real life. Now I feel I should talk about ways to make quirks influential in your plot.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Quirks aren't always this important; they usually just add a degree of humor or uniqueness to your characters; but sometimes they also play a big enough part in the plot to help it move the way it should. Perhaps their part is to cause the hero/heroine to make a decision (the inciting incident) that propels them into the rising action. [If you want to know more about these plot points (inciting incident and rising action) go <a href="http://ywp.nanowrimo.org/files/ywp/ywp_10_hs_outlining_your_plot.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>.] Maybe it's as simple as this little story about our dear friend Angelica Accola.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Angel absolutely adores chocolate chip cookies. They are her favorite edible thing in the whole world. But she's very particular about one thing. The semisweet chocolate chips absolutely HAVE to be Ghirardelli, or she won't eat them - plain and simple. Everyone who knows Angel has been given the spiel about her chocolate chips, to save them the embarrassment of giving her cookies she wouldn't eat. </span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Well, one fateful day, Angel went to a New Year's Eve party at her friend Gabriellia's house. She trusted that Gabriellia would have remembered her preference for Ghirardelli chocolate, but she still examines all the cookies carefully. Across the table, a young man is doing the same. They don't notice each other at first but study the cookies. Angel uses her sixth sense that informs her of the kind of chocolate in the food. Don't ask me how she does it. O_o Anyway, Gabriellia's little sister Alessandra toddled up and asked Angel what she was doing. The young man across the table thought she was talking to him, and the two picky cookie-eaters answered simultaneously. "Making sure they used Ghirardelli chips in the cookies," was their answer. Startled, they looked at each other for the first time.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I will leave your own imaginations to divine what happened immediately afterwards, but Angel is married to that young man right now. His name is Eric Accola. </span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So if Angel was not so picky about her chocolate chips she may never have met the man she loves. So it may be with your protagonist, a supporting character, etc. But quirks don't always lead to happy endings. Take Eric's great great grandfather Alan for example. As a young man enlisted in the army, he had been impetuous and spirited. A big quirk of his was that he was petrified of needles and other sharp things. </span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When his camp was fired at and the soldiers were forced to flee the area, they found that a fence of barbed wire set up for their enemies' demise was now their own. They crawled under it and hacked it down, but Alan was scared stiff by the pointy things and fainted. This caused him to be captured.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So that was a sad story. But sometimes quirks can be like that. They're not always good for the character. Maybe the story is about overcoming a quirk that grew into a phobia or an obsession. It is guaranteed, though, that quirks will make your story more original, more interesting.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So how can you turn your quirks into important elements of the story? Here are some questions you can answer.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What is the quirk?</span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How does it affect those around the character? Do they love it, hate it, or are they indifferent to it?</span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How does it affect the character? Does he/she love it, hate it, or is she/he indifferent to it?</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Can your character be rid of the quirk?</span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If so, how?</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Take these questions, review your plot, and see if the quirk can become more than a quirk.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hope this helped someone!</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Ashley</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-67032806978149392062013-10-14T16:29:00.001-07:002013-10-18T13:21:17.073-07:00Character Quirks<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So I decided to share my thoughts on character quirks with the world after one of my besties was having trouble thinking them up. Character quirks are sometimes very difficult because we rarely notice them or think about them. So by all means pull up a chair and listen to me ramble.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For a long time I have made a point of researching cool people and finding out stuff about them. I have an odd fascination with thinking deeply into their character. Now, don't think I just stalk people. I'm talking about actors, musicians, etc, as well as family members. Even movie characters never escape my scrutiny. And just recently I realized how I could put my extensive knowledge of formerly useless things to work. Through writing.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3ysIcynK20ohORWJoi8fbB13eV8Diwg01K1Ol1H7bDMHDbhxAVSSz05kAVV0zNJKgZaikwrT70xJL1xIeD4k60DCGBxA7GXdFpvJCXj4ohgeNOAkPJLP6q6e-qCZVB5uESzPYMYa0UA/s1600/Candice-Accola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3ysIcynK20ohORWJoi8fbB13eV8Diwg01K1Ol1H7bDMHDbhxAVSSz05kAVV0zNJKgZaikwrT70xJL1xIeD4k60DCGBxA7GXdFpvJCXj4ohgeNOAkPJLP6q6e-qCZVB5uESzPYMYa0UA/s320/Candice-Accola.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Allow me to create a character from scratch. Her name is Angelica Dorothea Elizabeth Morgana Candice Accola, but we shall call her Angel for short. Angel is a very beautiful middle-aged woman, the picture of health. Blonde hair, green/blue eyes, pink cheeks, manicured nails, healthy weight. She's a little bit taller than most women, standing at exactly 5' 11". None of those are character quirks, though. What's "quirky" about her is that she frequently stands on one leg and uses the other to rub the first leg's calf like a cricket. She purses her lips when someone's talking to her. Her fingers often absent-mindedly reach up to twirl a strand of hair. You can tell she's bored if she starts looking up or down, but normally she keeps her eyes fixed on whoever is speaking to her. She says "I say!" a lot. Those are character quirks.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Look around you, at your family and friends. Do they do any of these things? What about constantly running their hands through their hair? Do they always wear a hat? Do they have a very unusual style of walking or running? What about the way they wear their hair? Is it odd? Is there a phrase they say often, or always in a certain situation? Do they like to collect certain items?</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Give </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Angelica Dorothea Elizabeth Morgana Candice Accola</span></span></span> a round of applause. You did great, girl.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now. After thinking about your family and friends and the various quirks they may have, move on to book or movie characters. Jack Sparrow from Disney's <i>Pirates of the Caribbean</i> is fairly easy. Jack always acts drunk and constantly wiggles his fingers. His favorite word is "Savvy". Barbossa, his former first mate, loves apples. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Emma Smallwood from <i>The Tutor's Daughter</i> by Julie Klassen always must have "a place for everything and everything in its place." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rachel Elizabeth Dare from Rick Riordan's <i>Heroes of Olympus</i> always has paint on her clothes.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Junie's dad from Barbara Park's <i>Junie B. Jones </i>runs his hands through his hair when he's trying to make a difficult decision.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mrs. Bates from <i>Emma</i> by Jane Austen is extremely talkative and frequently says "So very obliging!"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just remember to think of little things. Observe people. It helps a lot with the development of lifelike characters!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">- Ashley and special guest star </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Angelica Dorothea Elizabeth Morgana Candice Accola</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-12959593174841734292013-10-12T14:07:00.000-07:002013-10-18T13:21:57.829-07:00Character Post ~ Meridath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Meridath is a spirited, 13-year old farmgirl who was once a part of Snow White's train of personal maidservants. She was dismissed because of her quick tongue and, frankly, her beauty. Snow White was jealous.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She lives in a rickety two-story farmhouse with her family of 6: Frederick, her sickly father who can barely stir from his chair by the fire; Jayla, her strong, independent mother who holds the family together; Ethan, her trouble-making, rowdy adult brother who is rarely home; Malik, the brainy, quiet brother; and Daniel, the sibling closest to her and also the kindest brother. Together the family works hard to support each other. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Meridath meets the fugitives Morgan and LI and takes them in, finding they have a common enemy: Snow White. Morgan and Meri befriend each other.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Meri and her family are very interesting to me. I think they represent the homely life, the average family that doesn't turn out to be the celebrated hero but played a huge part in the hero's life. I love characters like that; brave, strong, loving, but not in the spotlight. Meri could have a book of her own about how awesome she and her family are. Maybe I'll make one. ;)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Ashley </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-38460239236731305002013-10-11T21:36:00.000-07:002013-10-18T13:22:15.189-07:00"To Whom It May Concern"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3WESv_3DrL-uIkG8Kwm_BvEgOAgcvDGB0CEEhyU-1T2QQOqkZki5qdmToB_uTIQOnpT7XZlJSrSRfhqA7ToDuOSDZpzRYvlHVu8bV4mi3uleUXYnyv5Tz39iSUM3QP0hokJ_ttD5kzw/s1600/mad+libs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn3WESv_3DrL-uIkG8Kwm_BvEgOAgcvDGB0CEEhyU-1T2QQOqkZki5qdmToB_uTIQOnpT7XZlJSrSRfhqA7ToDuOSDZpzRYvlHVu8bV4mi3uleUXYnyv5Tz39iSUM3QP0hokJ_ttD5kzw/s320/mad+libs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here is the promised Mad Libs game. I am using a few words from each of your kind suggestions.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I have <u>laughed</u> my job. A most <u>jumpy</u> job it is. A creature such as I, with my long, <u>obese</u> mane and <u>crazily</u> manicured claws, should not have to put up with it. The children who visit have no real appreciation for beauty. And the man who brings my food insults my majesty with his <u>yodeling</u> and cowering. Does he not know that one so </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><u>green</u> as I would never eat such a scrawny <u>potato bug</u>? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Furthermore, I'd like to complain about the food. <u>Oh my cheesepuffs,</u> what is "jerky", ya jerks?!? The stuff tastes all dried out like a <u>bilge snipe</u> someone forgot to eat and left in the sun (and those things taste <u>squeaky</u>, let me tell you!).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> Oh, and why for <u>Krypto the Super-dog</u>'s sake do you call those hideous, brightly-colored shoes-that-are-full-of-holes "crocs"?! I have seen crocodiles and even they are better looking than that. Humans <u>tackle</u> me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Needless to <u>scare</u>, I am <u>thickly</u> disappointed. None of this was in the job description. So I am leaving, as any <u>spotty</u> lion would do. Oh, and don't send out animal control like you did when poor <u>Oobette</u> tried to quit. I'm <u>tango-ing</u> the first giant-flying-cross-shaped-machine back to <u>Gallifrey.</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> - sincerely never yours again, <u>Bisquick</u> the Lion</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I do hope <i>someone</i> laughed at that. It's very silly. Also the first Mad Libs game I've ever written. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">- Ashley </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-38325615893232741142013-10-10T13:54:00.002-07:002013-10-10T13:54:14.933-07:00A Mad Libs Game<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzknusuEjP5r6ZvfCZ15HbRHfvcsOUK6xHKjKjMgyZqcR6NJo0ACmm7w8EtnPiGbt2G5QVdPg76Kd45aFXl5_Xg8Z0cdTmNtMNtmDeW15CVWJJ_l41qdl_djUzKNJguC9BBRvjxRvNvM/s1600/writing+prompt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzknusuEjP5r6ZvfCZ15HbRHfvcsOUK6xHKjKjMgyZqcR6NJo0ACmm7w8EtnPiGbt2G5QVdPg76Kd45aFXl5_Xg8Z0cdTmNtMNtmDeW15CVWJJ_l41qdl_djUzKNJguC9BBRvjxRvNvM/s320/writing+prompt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2607">I know I said a
post about Meridath was coming up, and it is. Later. xD Today I got a
writing prompt saying "Write in the form of a letter starting with 'To
whom it may concern.'" I started writing and when I was done, I thought
it may be humorous to turn it into a Mad Lib. Ever played Mad Libs? I
love them!!! If you don't know what they are, let me tell you. It's a
short story, a couple paragraphs long, that's missing certain words like
some adjectives, verbs, or names. One person asks for the missing
words, calling out something like "Adjective?" And other people respond with a word of
their choice like "Pink!" </span></span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Just in case, here's a list of definitions of some of the words I'll be asking for: </span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2947">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2946">Noun = person (eg your mom), place (eg Washington DC), or thing (eg a chair).</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2949">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2948">Adjective: a descriptive word (eg pink, silly, resplendent)</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2951">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2950">L-y word: a word ending in l-y (eg playfully, stupidly)</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2953">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2952">I-n-g word: a word ending in ING (eg grumbling)</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2954">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2956">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2955">Now.
I'm going to ask for words and after everyone's commented and answered
(and agreed on all the answers!!!) I'll post the finished story.
Here's what I need:</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2957">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2958">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Verb</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2959">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2960">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2961">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2962">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>L-y adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2963">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>I-n-g verb</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2966">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2965">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2964">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Insect</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Exclamation</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Animal</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2968">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2967">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Famous animal</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Verb</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>L-y adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Adjective</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Silly name</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>I-n-g verb</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2977">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span>Place</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2974">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2975">Silly name</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2974">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2975"> </span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2974">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2975"> </span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2974">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2975">Have at it! I will be checking frequently until all the words I supplied. Then I will post the finished story. :)</span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2974">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2975"> </span></span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2974">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381437949958_2975"><span style="font-size: small;">-Ashley </span></span></span></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-50869181163391537742013-10-07T20:33:00.000-07:002013-10-18T13:22:45.769-07:00NaNoWriMo Is Nearly Upon Us!<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Alright, so I don't know about you guys, but I am <i>super stoked </i>for NaNoWriMo. I have been brainstorming, writing, scribbling, notetaking, and otherwise preparing like a maniac. With the start-up of school, it has gotten a little harder to find the time, but I hope I will persevere, for November is swiftly approaching. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">[I would also like to add that my birthday is coming up, too....] </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, during November I most likely won't post anything. At all. And if I do, it is probably something very incredible that I really wanted to tell you guys about. Which I hope something like that happens - a bizarre dream that gave me a brilliant idea, maybe? *crosses fingers*</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I have tweaked and polished my story, affectionately nicknamed "The {Good} Stepmother". ( </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-evil-stepdaughter.html" target="_blank">see "The {Evil} Stepdaughter"</a></span></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">and<a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/09/nanowrimo.html" target="_blank"> "NaNoWriMo!"</a></span></span> ) <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was previously titled "The {Evil} Stepdaughter", by the way. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To do: </span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I need a name for Morgan, my MC (main character)'s love interest. I currently call him LI (for Love Interest, of course). See my "NaNoWriMo!" post for information on him.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I need a better name for Snow White's father, who I have dubbed Lee because it was the first random name that came to mind.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> A new, neutral character is "The Witch". She proves herself both an antagonist and a helpful supporting character during Morgan's adventures. The actual story doesn't reveal her name, and I have yet to think of it.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Developments:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I think I have decided on dwarf names: Gretten, Nyse, Sove, Minsten, Likkelig, Lege, and Blyg. Trust me, I have a very plausible explanation for these ridiculous names, but a magician never reveals her secret - nor does an author.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">New character: Prince Beau. I positively hate that name but it fits this spoiled Prince Charming very well.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">New character: Meridath. A gorgeous farm girl, she was once a maidservant of Snow White's but was dismissed because she was too spirited and Snow was just a little jealous of her beauty. She has three big brothers and her two parents living with her: Frederick, the ill old father who rarely stirs from his chair; Jayla, the strong, firm mother who holds the family together; Ethan, the oldest son and also a disgrace to the family name with his rowdiness and drinking; Malik, the quiet, thoughtful, and brainy son; and Daniel, the warm-hearted, gallant youngest brother who is the closest to Meri.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Revenge on a stepmother isn't the only thing Snow White wants. A powerful, mysterious jewel called "Malificent's Stone" plays a key part in this tale.</span></span></li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK70EXUjCN1OEhpmQj2fjlqIoQ59ue8PA4-bQjRco7W72-N7C3toVau4AtZ6_R_eYqpMx70Dg3kBrMkqqB6AM9M9wjgFKdRnr2cg082yWazUjqL_cV3yn2y6RgD_bjNY2hwu9VfrX_UcU/s1600/malificent%2527s+stone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK70EXUjCN1OEhpmQj2fjlqIoQ59ue8PA4-bQjRco7W72-N7C3toVau4AtZ6_R_eYqpMx70Dg3kBrMkqqB6AM9M9wjgFKdRnr2cg082yWazUjqL_cV3yn2y6RgD_bjNY2hwu9VfrX_UcU/s1600/malificent%2527s+stone.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Certainly there is more, but why would you even read my book if you knew all about it? I'm very excited to write this. Very excited indeed. Give me a shout if you think of possible names for my nameless characters; help is always welcome. If your name wins, you get a free tshirt! No, not really. Sorry to dash your hopes.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A full post about Meridath is coming up!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="no"><span class="hps">God natt og</span> <span class="hps">gode drรธmmer,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="no"><span class="hps">-Ashley </span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-18650121082063496772013-09-22T13:00:00.001-07:002013-10-18T13:23:11.025-07:00NaNoWriMo!<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month.</b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHppB7SS9YYvjgHdmiLQdO-_u0MLNg68EumheCpqAHdgxNCql1xDdKDWdrTheYwilbYUklrkdym-jZWgbT8lZNDjXwzn51TcaHuQf8_R9Nw8N3KFVOfKvHchz5kQTGQRT2IoYcfpLa69I/s1600/nanowrimo+logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHppB7SS9YYvjgHdmiLQdO-_u0MLNg68EumheCpqAHdgxNCql1xDdKDWdrTheYwilbYUklrkdym-jZWgbT8lZNDjXwzn51TcaHuQf8_R9Nw8N3KFVOfKvHchz5kQTGQRT2IoYcfpLa69I/s1600/nanowrimo+logo.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b> </b><span style="font-size: small;">NaNoWriMo is an event, officially taking place in November every year, in which an average of 300,000 writers from around the world take it upon themselves to write 50,000 words in 30 days. The purpose of this insane enterprise is to just WRITE. No editing is allowed; in fact, in the <a href="http://ywp.nanowrimo.org/workbooks" target="_blank">workbooks</a> provided for elementary through high school writers on the <a href="http://ywp.nanowrimo.org/what-is-nanowrimo" target="_blank">NaNoWriMo Young Writers Program website</a>, you must push a button and vacuum your inner editor right out of your head and into a little room where he/she waits for you to finish your book so it can be edited. </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzpNLxG4ZDEIbr8iga23-snQhYH6k8ZNRgJZJ7PN-rdttK3JhhqzQ4HVoTW1iUurzFqOUNGFbpVcV4EcPC2NCuo4alFeEuwkk_egEBVLu914DMMOXThDOvYN14wxZCGu5UDK1C53awXfc/s1600/nanowrimo+young+writers+logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzpNLxG4ZDEIbr8iga23-snQhYH6k8ZNRgJZJ7PN-rdttK3JhhqzQ4HVoTW1iUurzFqOUNGFbpVcV4EcPC2NCuo4alFeEuwkk_egEBVLu914DMMOXThDOvYN14wxZCGu5UDK1C53awXfc/s1600/nanowrimo+young+writers+logo.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo this year! All you need for it is a notebook and pen, or a computer and fingers to type with. To connect with other writers and set a goal, you could go to one of two websites: <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/en/about" target="_blank">Nanowrimo.org</a>, the official site, or <a href="http://ywp.nanowrimo.org/what-is-nanowrimo" target="_blank">ywp.nanowrimo.org</a>, the young writers program which provides workbooks and also lets you set your own goal instead of the standard 50,000 words.</span></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGr14EvfgLM1LLk6jxavO2y_KxPe7wbP7XNO2ifJVn388RWmMbK27_rARXXMKwv1QPecwfvpYKWAE5brbNb4uA0pG2jfSpP2ti4ofGu-QiNLbH0DDqn_-CIWV9oDh0CvwXVV1G44RzrY/s1600/nanowrimo+about.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGr14EvfgLM1LLk6jxavO2y_KxPe7wbP7XNO2ifJVn388RWmMbK27_rARXXMKwv1QPecwfvpYKWAE5brbNb4uA0pG2jfSpP2ti4ofGu-QiNLbH0DDqn_-CIWV9oDh0CvwXVV1G44RzrY/s1600/nanowrimo+about.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> So guess what story I'm writing for NaNo? My {Good} Stepmother story! Haven't exactly decided what I'm going to call it. But I have worked out quite a bit concerning the plot and characters, thanks to the surprisingly helpful workbooks. I say surprising because I usually don't get anything out of such things, but this one has been indispensable. Half of it is preparing for November; the other half coaches you through as you write like a mad man/woman. I have to admit that I'm awfully excited for November as well as dreading it simply because it is the threshold of winter!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So. I'm going to do a couple short character bios for my NaNoWriMo book. If you've read my previous post about this book, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-evil-stepdaughter.html" target="_blank">The Evil Stepdaughter</a>, you will find I have made some changes here. Don't be confused; they were deliberate changes to fit the rest of the story. :)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9M2kIzkyzQSlfNxXg68oksn_ikdLwwoDH2zd17hxAO9B3F3bc7Y5p1G_Sa3RiMBdH9ETCYLpxq0fDGJqCgiFw7zHqyaMxUmEZTUiUJYoEUGMqopY4mfB-pKEPAxrtNGbopoi8DEy95g/s1600/morgan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9M2kIzkyzQSlfNxXg68oksn_ikdLwwoDH2zd17hxAO9B3F3bc7Y5p1G_Sa3RiMBdH9ETCYLpxq0fDGJqCgiFw7zHqyaMxUmEZTUiUJYoEUGMqopY4mfB-pKEPAxrtNGbopoi8DEy95g/s320/morgan.jpg" width="229" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Morgan</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b>Morgan is a plain and tall 18 year old with remarkable maturity and clear-headedness, but perhaps not enough humility. She was shortly engaged to a soldier currently and unofficially nicknamed Terry, but a deal between her father and the King crushed all her hopes. She was married off to the scruffy old man and forced to become stepmother to the bratty Snow White, who appears to everyone but Morgan as an angelic, victimized child who lost her mother at an early age. Morgan is able to use magic, but only a little; she prefers instead to use earthly resources that may appear magical to peasants. Snow White accuses her so often of witchcraft that she became extremely sensitive to any mention of her skill.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>"Terry"</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Terry is probably not going to be his name, but it is one that I had to stick on him for the moment.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not-as-tall-as-Morgan, impetuous, and good-natured, Terry is blonde-haired and handsome. He also has a sometimes unbearable case of cockiness. But he has a good heart and loves Morgan ardently (thank you, Mr. Darcy, for that beautiful word) even after they are forced apart. His hot temper is not infrequently unleashed, especially when he hears someone compare Snow White's ravishing beauty to Morgan's "plain, forgettable face". </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">NaNoWriMo is going to be a remarkable experience and I can't wait to share my progress with you guys. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>-Ashley</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b> </span></span></span><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-73778991320397514332013-09-11T19:27:00.001-07:002013-09-11T21:05:17.970-07:00New Character ~ Isaiah Newport<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg60_uS11gVUuS-aQWNoR0YijOJdq-tRKb_DANMOehg9tsP0imkMJiDKouU-jYIj_ijBhiBc-NX0IPL4sWDL8E7IqunFK4Af6obMeHAj28bRSd5adsYEbCG-FF8-eRj22yl2HGl3LdVdJg/s1600/isaiah1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg60_uS11gVUuS-aQWNoR0YijOJdq-tRKb_DANMOehg9tsP0imkMJiDKouU-jYIj_ijBhiBc-NX0IPL4sWDL8E7IqunFK4Af6obMeHAj28bRSd5adsYEbCG-FF8-eRj22yl2HGl3LdVdJg/s320/isaiah1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>I have created a new character to be an antagonist within the protagonists.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">[I would like to thank my friends Mary Jane, Ethan and Megan for providing me with the name and picture for this character.]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Isaiah is a hardworking soldier of The Safe House. He's very skilled and strong, trains daily, and makes sure everyone knows it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He feels superior to everyone in the Safe House, especially Cameron, considering him spoiled by Adrian. He was always making quips about Cameron's past despite the pain it brought him. Sometimes he would even undermine Adrian's authority as Captain.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After Cameron returned, Isaiah constantly belittled him and criticized his decision to bring Natalie there. He made Natalie start wondering if Cameron actually cares about her, or if he's only protecting her because he feels it's his duty to Adrian. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>"Cameron." The voice was dry, not at all welcoming. Cameron groaned and whispered to Natalie, "Isaiah." She cocked her head and whispered back, "Who's Isaiah?" "You'll find out soon enough, he'll make sure of that," he muttered, and turned around to face a tall, limber man who glared down at him like he was a naughty child. "You're back," he said with displeasure. Cameron frowned. "Yes." He turned back to Natalie and made a face. She covered her mouth to repress a giggle, but it was repressed for her when Isaiah turned his gray-green eyes on her. "Who's that?" he demanded. Cameron spun around, eyes flashing. Natalie had never seen him irritated so quickly. "You don't have to act like everyone has to go through your approval, Isaiah. Natalie is Captain Adrian's daughter." Isaiah's eyebrows arched. "Really?" he drawled. "I see just inheriting the title of Captain wasn't enough; you also had to have his daughter." Natalie's face burned bright red.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So if you don't hate Isaiah as much as I do, I have failed miserably.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That part might not actually be written into the book; I just wanted to give you a sample of his impossibleness. He sounds just like the type of guy Lucy would like. *HINT HINT*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Well, that was super short. It's all I have on hand for posting. Maybe soon I'll do a post for Adrian, but I haven't found anyone he looks like yet. In fact, I hardly know what he looks like at all. So there's a problem.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If you guys have any suggestions on something I should post here, PLEASE PLEASE comment and let me know. ANYTHING, from a writing prompt you want me to write from to a part of one of my stories you want me to expound on. Unless you ask me to describe Richard's death scene. I imagine if you want your heart broken, you could venture to ask. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You could also request more about a certain character or even give me an idea for a new one. Whatever you want. I am out of things to post here, and since the reason I'm posting is to entertain YOU, I want to know what YOU want.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Ashley</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-10158891182818030282013-09-07T19:59:00.000-07:002013-09-07T19:59:54.981-07:00The Letter<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I can't believe it. A post before 12:00. Simply incredible.</span></span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGyJp_bru42ldo5qDQi8SMRR1wYqLoa6HPpVjwl5OvsGbWszUe7e5CcTc1JulIeOlEsWXqxpS3gCyq9-rk3dQ7-u0-koJk7Ia8fAG3qxjBKBWZbH29bykywzitt87v4Pvcaol03iMqEhc/s1600/letters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGyJp_bru42ldo5qDQi8SMRR1wYqLoa6HPpVjwl5OvsGbWszUe7e5CcTc1JulIeOlEsWXqxpS3gCyq9-rk3dQ7-u0-koJk7Ia8fAG3qxjBKBWZbH29bykywzitt87v4Pvcaol03iMqEhc/s320/letters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Less Alexard, more Camalie. Hehe...get it?...yeah, moving on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As usual, this is based on a writing prompt. "Write about a letter that changed the recipient's life forever." This conveniently applied to Natalie.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Natalie drew a sharp breath as she read the back of the envelope. It was from the army base. With both excitement and fear she slit it open. <i>Dad?</i> She guessed, pulling a glossy white paper out and starting to unfold it. Here eyes caught part of a sentence and her heart nearly stopped. <i>"We regret to inform you...</i>" Closing her eyes, she stood still and silent for a moment, trying to calm her pounding heart. Dad had once sat her down and explained what would happen if she received a letter from the army containing those words, but she'd never actually believed it would happen. Maybe her fears were foolish and it hadn't happened. She repeated this hope over and over to herself as she unfolded the letter and started to read its contents.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">D<span style="font-size: small;">EAR <span style="font-size: large;">M<span style="font-size: small;">RS. AND <span style="font-size: large;">M<span style="font-size: small;">S. <span style="font-size: large;">R<span style="font-size: small;">OSS,</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">We regret to inform you that while selflessly serving his country in the military, <u><b>ADRIAN ROSS</b></u> has been killed in action.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Natalie's heart nearly burst to pieces as the letter dropped from her hands onto the floor. She fell back onto a chair behind her, breathing hard. Tears gathered in her eyes. She curled into a miserable ball and wept silently.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Her mother entered the room and saw her shaking form. "What's wrong, Nat?" she exclaimed. Natalie didn't move and willed her to go away, but Ingrid walked toward her and stopped to pick up the letter. Natalie held her breath, waiting to hear her mother's reaction. She heard a gasp, a choke, and a small cry of "Adrian!" before Ingrid fled the room and Nat was again alone in her anguish.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After what felt like hours, Natalie slowly lifted her tear-streaked face and stared dully at the envelope still lying on the table. A gleam of metal caught her eye, and she slowly raised herself and pulled it gently out. It was a dog tag. The tears returned as she read the inscription.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> ROSS, ADRIAN</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Trembling, she hung it around her neck and laid back down, clutching her precious relic as if her soul depended on it.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yes, that was very short. Couldn't help myself; I was too excited about posting it before 12:00. Hope you enjoyed.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Related posts: <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-cameron-walker.html">Character Post: Cameron Walker</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-natalie-ross.html">Character Post: Natalie Ross</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-promised-blurb.html">The Promised Blurb</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-jesse-and-anna.html">Character Post:: Jesse and Anna [???]</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-richard.html">Character Post: Richard</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/inspired-by-prompt.html">Inspired By A Prompt</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/colins-coming-writing-prompt.html">Colin's Coming (Writing Prompt)</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/maybe-not-quite-so-deluxe.html">Maybe Not Quite So Deluxe...</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/blog-post-nuff-said.html">Blog Post. 'Nuff Said.</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/a-blast.html">A Blast</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/09/lost-and-found-and-then-lost-again.html">Lost and Found and then Lost Again</a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-29087299983554936242013-09-06T23:50:00.000-07:002013-09-06T23:50:19.811-07:00Updates and A Thingy<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<b>Not sure what these little pieces of story are called, so I call them thingies.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzcpCXrsnyoEVlTbFFBbtINwL1ZPZ1iUmWxrknoCKvrNT05mKhAjS8KAI4n_EGygl5Q4u1hdjsLHKzyn0_CsMn0CUlpuZZHbYomKfJm5IJFRzS7sr6nGE5Z-xm3G-KsdRxIsiv5-Syb0/s1600/cameron2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzcpCXrsnyoEVlTbFFBbtINwL1ZPZ1iUmWxrknoCKvrNT05mKhAjS8KAI4n_EGygl5Q4u1hdjsLHKzyn0_CsMn0CUlpuZZHbYomKfJm5IJFRzS7sr6nGE5Z-xm3G-KsdRxIsiv5-Syb0/s320/cameron2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So! *rubs hands together* As I said in the title, I have a few updates about Hitchhiker.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">First of all, I have done weird writerly magic to people's ages. It's my universe; I can change timelines however I want. Natalie has suddenly become 20 and Cameron has suddenly become 22. Also, Richard's entire existence and the existences of everything around him went back in time so that he enlisted in the army when he was 24. Instead of 29. Just let me work things out here. *wipes sweat off brow* This is a lot of concentration to be doing at 2:14 am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And last but not least, I also have a piece of a thing for you. From the way I talk, one would never guess I was a writer. :P This..thingy...is based on a writing prompt, as usual. "Write a scene starting with the line, 'I have nothing to apologize for.'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Oh, I almost forgot. Due to confused new readers, at the bottom of each post I'm going to put "related posts" so no one will ever wonder where to start again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"I have nothing to apologize for." The man stood stock still and glared at his opponent, who wiped his bloodied nose and looked down. Adrian grunted. "Oh? What started the fight?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Cameron suppressed a sigh as the men rushed to explain why the other was in the wrong. Everyone had been on edge today. Even their great Captain was acting different. He was quiet, distracted, even a little melancholy. Cameron himself was only disturbed because of Adrian's strange behavior. He wished he could get a moment alone with him to ask what was wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Disciplinary action will be taken immediately," Adrian was saying. He nodded to Jesse, who took both the men by their elbows and steered them out of the room. Adrian let out a long sigh and rested his head in his hands. Cameron walked forward to stand beside him. "Sir?" he almost whispered. Adrian looked up. "Yes?" Cameron wasn't sure how to begin, so he spoke bluntly. "What's the matter?" The Captain tried to appear confused, but Cameron only held him in a meaningful look until he gave in and motioned toward a chair nearby. Cameron pulled it up to the desk and and sat, eying him expectantly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"If the person sitting at my desk right now wasn't you or that Jesse character, I wouldn't say anything about this at all," he remarked. Cameron patiently waited in silence for more. Adrian regarded him with an unidentifiable emotion. "Do you ever have regrets about leaving your family?" He shook his head. "No, sir." Adrian nodded reflectively. "Of course, your parents weren't exactly..." he stopped, and Cameron was grateful. He didn't like thinking about them. "I confess, I keep wondering if I should have entered the Safe House at all, or if I should have just returned home for good. It's been more than a year since I last saw my daughter, and now...now she thinks I'm dead." The words were spoken quickly and firmly, as if to ward off any unwanted emotion. "I'm tired, Cameron, and I want to see my family again. That's what's wrong with me today."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Written at 2:36. One of those tired posts that I would prefer to have no constructive criticism on. ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, that's all...I think...*snore*</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">-Ashley</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Related posts: <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-cameron-walker.html">Character Post: Cameron Walker</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-natalie-ross.html">Character Post: Natalie Ross</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-promised-blurb.html">The Promised Blurb</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-jesse-and-anna.html">Character Post:: Jesse and Anna [???]</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/character-post-richard.html">Character Post: Richard</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/inspired-by-prompt.html">Inspired By A Prompt</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/colins-coming-writing-prompt.html">Colin's Coming (Writing Prompt)</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/maybe-not-quite-so-deluxe.html">Maybe Not Quite So Deluxe...</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/blog-post-nuff-said.html">Blog Post. 'Nuff Said.</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/08/a-blast.html">A Blast</a>, <a href="http://quaintrelles.blogspot.com/2013/09/lost-and-found-and-then-lost-again.html">Lost and Found and then Lost Again</a> </span></div>
<b style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-60847649237670828442013-09-03T13:17:00.001-07:002013-09-03T13:17:31.033-07:00Lost and Found and then Lost Again<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I KNOW I promised more Natalie/Cameron and less of Richard/Alexis. BUT. I found a writing prompt that said, "Start a story with this sentence: 'She woke, shivering, in the dark of the night." Well, first it was going to be about Natalie, but a flash of inspiration, as opposed to the blank mind that stood before me when thinking about Nat, seemed far better.</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So. This little thingy made me feel sorrier for Richard than I ever did. Suddenly everything is different. Goldfinches and grosbeaks! I love being a writer!! All these little twists on things I thought I already had figured out...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She woke, shivering, in the dark of the night. The luminous numbers on her alarm clock informed her that it was 8:00 in the morning. She had exactly one hour.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Immediately she was on her feet, switching the light on, shedding her night clothes, donning a brown dress, slipping into her shoes. She ran a comb through her hair and arranged it into a messy bun. Adding a little make-up and jewelry to her ensemble, she studied herself in the mirror. There was one thing missing.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Opening her closet, she extracted an earring from her ear and fitted it into a tiny hole in the back wall. Something clicked, and a hinged panel fell open. She felt inside until her fingers came in contact with cold metal.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She pulled the chain out and held it up to the light. A tear threatened to escape as she read the inscription on the dog tag.</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> NORTH, RICHARD</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">She swallowed her tears. Today was not a day to cry. Colin wanted to see her happy. She hung the dog tag around her neck and locked the panel back up.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Thirty minutes later, she was stepping out of her car and crossing the nearly empty street to the little restaurant on the other side. A coffee smell met her as she entered. "Can I help you, miss?" a man at the counter asked. She shook her head, scanning the room to see if Colin was early. "No, I'm waiting for someone." There were only three people there, all sitting at a table in the corner. She was about to take a seat when one of the people looked up. Her breath caught in her throat and her legs nearly gave way under her. She felt dizzy; everything was suddenly blurry. Swaying, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, but her whirling thoughts were overpowering her will. <i>That can't be him</i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Suddenly she heard his voice and felt his strong arms help her sit down. "Are you alright, ma'am?" his voice said. <i>He doesn't recognize me!</i> was her panicked thought before she realized she was covering her face with her hands. Breathing hard, she gathered her courage and looked up at him. His face blanched, his eyes widened, and his lips opened and closed as if he couldn't summon words. Finally he managed to whisper, "Alexis?" That was the last thing she heard before she fainted.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Richard could only stare open-mouthed as his little sister fainted in his arms. His head spun with confusion and pain. <i>What is she doing here? What happened to her?</i> "Someone get her some water!" He shouted. Bending close to her face, he whispered, "Alex, wake up, please!" A waiter ran to him with a cup of water and Richard poured a few drops into her mouth. To his relief, her eyes fluttered open. "Richard," she gasped, "You were dead!" He put a finger to her lips and glanced back at Ford and Lucy, who were regarding him with cold impatience. "Look. I need you to pretend you don't know me." His voice was urgent. Her face betrayed her utter confusion. "What?" He glanced back again and saw to his horror that Ford and Lucy had gotten up and were approaching. "Just...please. You don't know me. It's for your own safety." She was about to argue, but before she could open her mouth, Ford was towering over them. "Richard. I believe we were in the middle of a discussion." Richard stood at attention. "Yes, sir," he muttered. Ford frowned at Alex. "Who is she?" Richard groaned inwardly. <i>Please forget about her. Just leave her alone</i>, he thought as he answered, "I don't know, sir. I was just helping her to -" "Richard!" Alexis exclaimed. "What are you talking about? I'm your sister!" Her brother nearly fainted himself as Ford's face lit up. "Your sister?" he repeated with morbid interest. Richard's heart sunk to the soles of his feet. Alexis looked bewildered. "What- Richard was...who are these...?" Ford grinned. "My dear, I'm very pleased to meet you, but your brother and I have business." He nodded at Lucy, who with a quick and subtle movement sent Alex back into unconsciousness. Richard grabbed Lucy's arm in an iron grip and angrily cried, "What do you think you're doing?" Ford stepped between him and his sister. "Someone call an ambulance!" he shouted, and narrowed his eyes at Richard. "Nice to know you have a sister. I suppose now if I am ever...displeased...with you, I have considerable motivation for you to get back into line." Richard was so stunned he nearly struck him, but a man appeared at that moment to ask why they needed an ambulance. "Our friend just passed out," Lucy answered promptly, pointing at Alexis. Richard pushed Ford aside and knelt by his sister. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and looked at Ford with venomous words boiling on his tongue. Ford merely patted his gun holster casually.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After Alex had been carried away in an ambulance, Ford pushed Richard back to his seat. "Nice girl. Where does she live?" Richard glared and said nothing. He shrugged. "We have ways of finding out, whether you tell us or not," he pointed out. Still he received no answer. "Well," Ford folded his hands and grinned, "shall we continue our meeting, then?"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">*Cries* Well, hopefully next I'll find something to write about Natalie or Cameron or Jesse or Anna or Adrian or all or a few or pairs or just three or four of them. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">P.S. I'd suggest that Richard clear out before Colin comes along. I'd also hate to be Colin when he comes to find that his date passed out and was taken to the hospital.</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-38473280131512324212013-08-29T19:31:00.000-07:002013-08-29T19:31:02.879-07:00The Evil Stepdaughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This has nothing to do with Hitchhiker.</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have no suitable-for-posting blurbs written about that, (one that I just wrote is a huge spoiler) so I wrote something else. This is a story I've been planning for a while.</span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My name is Morgan.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Undoubtedly, you know me as <i>the wicked witch</i> or <i>the evil queen</i>. I don't blame you for thinking that; Snow White has gotten everyone confused. But I know the real story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and if you want to hear it, I'll tell you. Juts be warned that believing me is an act of high treason. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">First of all, I'd like to make it clear that I <i>do not</i> dabble in dark magic. I'm no witch. What I do is what my grandmother taught me; I use natural ingredients from the earth from the earth to create things that silly minds call <i>potions</i> and <i>witch's brews</i>. Second, I will quite openly admit that Snow White is prettier than me. Third, I do have a magic mirror. It's a treasured gift from my friend Malificent and I hate it when people say it's evil. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The fourth thing I would like to point out is that I am only Snow White's stepmother because my parents forced me to. I was sixteen when my noble-born father made an arrangement with King Gerard (ugh, how could I marry a man with that name?) for our marriage after Queen Lilla died. I was ashen-faced throughout the entire wedding. Want to know why? Not only was I simply reluctant to marry a 50-year old man, but I was quite in love with someone else! Imagine telling your true love that you're leaving him because you must marry a scruffy old king. Tristan was heartbroken, to say the least.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Snow White is only two years younger than me. I'm sure you can imagine how much influence and authority a sixteen-year old stepmother has over a sassy, vain, fourteen-year old princess. We didn't get along well, needless to say. But all her subjects, of course, thought she was just the sweetest thing.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">One day Snow White was throwing a fit and told me that I was an ugly old peasant. Feeling I should at least try to take control of my stepdaughter, I punished her by sending her to the courtyard to wash the stones for five minutes. I also sent Tristan, who happened to be a knight, to guard her (and make sure she didn't try to get out of her chore). Four minutes later he came back escorted by guards, accused of having caused "the princess' disappearance". Visiting him in the dungeon, I learned the truth: Snow White had knocked him out cold and then must have run away. I was a little upset that he'd allowed a little girl to knock him out, but I forgave him soon enough and helped him escape.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Just a couple days later, the kind received a letter from Snow saying she wouldn't come back unless I was gone, and proceeded to accuse me of abusing her as well as making her scrub the courtyard. Absurd, of course, but the king promptly divorced me and sent me away quite humiliated and penniless. On her way home, Snow saw me making a fire with 'my magical potions' as I spent the night in a miserable cave. Therefore, when she got home, she claimed that I was a witch and, naturally, tried to hunt me down...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That's all. It's the introduction to a story where I switch the villain and heroine around. Might do that with a lot of other fairy tales, too. What do you think?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Ashley</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">P.S. Hey, a post before 11:00! :D </span></span><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span></b><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-44246537617627220712013-08-28T08:15:00.001-07:002013-08-28T08:21:56.925-07:00A Blast<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">While this post's title is not the most creative, it is quite literally this post's content. Or at least, some of it.</span></span></b><br>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As usual, I managed to finish this one at 11:00 and post it the next day, so it isn't that good. But hey, you guys will love anything I post, right?...yeah right.</span></span></span></b><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This or some variation of this will most likely be in the book, but I haven't gotten to this part yet.</span></span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"<i>You</i> lived here?" Natalie was incredulous, but Cameron was serious. "Yeah."<br> She stared up at the dilapitated blue building. "How long has it been abandoned?" He shrugged. "I didn't even know my parents moved away until the day I escaped...from <i>them</i>. I certainly wouldn't have come if they were still here." There was no pain in his voice; only cold remembrance.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Do you want to look inside?" he offered. Natalie's eyes widened. "Can I?" He arched his brows sarcastically. "No, I was only teasing you."</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cameron climbed up the porch steps and produced a key from his coat pocket. "Where did you get that?" Natalie bounded up the steps to stand beside him. He grinned mischievously. "I lived here, remember?" He fitted it into the lock and opened the door.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Immediately a musty, skunk-like smell overwhelmed their senses, but only for a moment. They slowly stepped inside and found themselves in a dusty foyer. Cameron turned around and around, taking in the sight of his childhood home. "I have a lot of memories of this place, despite how young I was when I ran away." He touched the walls. "Some good, some bad...no, all bad." His hand stopped at a spot of blood. "This was from a papercut of mine. I remember my father beating me up over that." Natalie grimaced. "How horrible," she muttered. Cameron shrugged. "I'm over that. It was a long time ago."</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They found the living room nearly bare except for a large threadbare couch sitting in the corner. Cameron slowly sat down on it, but Natalie remained standing in the middle of the room. "I've always wondered about this house. Every time I passed it on the road, I imagined who might have lived here." She laughed. "It's weird, I know." Cameron patted the cushion next to him invitingly. "I think weird is a good thing," he said. Nat blushed and sat down. "I wish my aunt thought the way you do." He frowned. "If she was unkind to you, you never have to see her again." She nodded, but he wasn't finished. "I know The Safe House probably isn't your dream home, but at least there are people who love you there, like Anna and Jesse and..." he stopped, but Nat knew what he'd almost said. <i>"And me."</i> She was sure her cheeks were pink, and to distract herself she tried to steer the conversation away from her aunt. Cameron was right; she didn't ever have to see Aunt Becca again, and the fact that she was happy about it made her feel guilty.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Do you think your parents missed you after you left?" It was the only thing she could think of to say. Cameron shrugged. "Probably not that much. I certainly didn't miss them." She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry they were like that." He merely nodded, scanning the room anxiously. "What's the matter?" He glanced back at her. "Um, probably nothing. Do you want to see the rest of the house?" She agreed enthusiastically, but Cameron's sudden anxiety had made her wary.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Cameron led her up the stairs and they wandered through the empty bedrooms. "Looks like they got rid of all my stuff when they moved," he remarked as they returned to the main floor. On their way to the kitchen, he halted and raised his hand for silence when Natalie started to speak. "Shhh.." he whispered. They stood perfectly still and listened for nearly a full minute. <i>Tick. Tick. Tick.</i> Natalie drew a sharp breath. "What's that?" she whispered nervously. "We need to get out of the house." Nat immediately turned on her heel and ran for the door with Cameron right behind her. They practically flew down the porch steps and away from the house. "Was that a -" Natalie started to ask, but before she could finish, Cameron pushed her behind a large rock and order, "Lay down. Cover your face." The urgency of his voice compelled her to obey instantly. He did the same.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The house exploded.</span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Flaming debris crashed around them, catching tufts of grass on fire. Cameron took off his coat and held it over their heads. "Let's get out of here," he shouted, but Natalie needed no urging. Together they ran, dodging flaming pieces of wood, until they'd reached a safe distance from the fire. "Your - your house!" Nat sputtered, stunned. Cameron nodded, staring emotionless at the flames. "Whoever put the bomb in there knew we were coming. We should leave before they return."</span></span></span><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, there you go, I finally posted something. Not the best something, but I am severely lacking in inspiration right now. So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to read Persuasion and perhaps get another post in here before 12:00. </span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> -Ashley </span></span></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-36175326265947756122013-08-25T14:19:00.000-07:002013-08-25T14:19:11.850-07:00Blog Post. 'Nuff Said.<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">YAY, GUYS, IT'S A BLOG POST!!!</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm so sorry that I haven't posted for a few days!! I would like to say that I was busy, but I really wasn't. I was writing and mostly reading. I had writer's block, you see, about the post I was working on, and I always read Jane Austen to get rid of writer's block. It worked, obviously, since I'm finally posting. Thank you, <i>Persuasion</i>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I wrote this from the writing prompt "Your antagonist is making tea for his mother. What is he thinking?". It reeks of heartache and sadness for me, because of what Richard lost by choosing such a wicked path. He lost a loving family.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Actually I shouldn't say "lost". To phrase it more accurately, he <i>gave up</i> a loving family who would gladly take him back in a heartbeat, if they knew he was alive. Here come the fangirl tears. Am I allowed to fangirl over my own novel? is that kind of conceited? Maybe these are just Writer Feels. Yes, Precious, that must be what they are.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Richard plopped the tea bag into his mother's tea cup and rummaged around in the cupboard for sugar cubes. "It's more of a peace offering, really," he remarked, turning to Alexis. She cocked her head. "For what? You and Mom never argue." He hesitated. "Not yet, anyway." Something in his voice made Alexis' intense dark eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?" He looked down at the tea cup, trying to decide whether or not he should tell her. She wouldn't agree at all, he was sure. She would try to dissuade him. But perhaps, if he could explain himself to her, she would see his reasoning, and understand why he needed to do this. Alex always understood him.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Richard?" Alex moved closer. he turned back to her and inhaled deeply. "I'm joining the army." To his surprise, Alex nodded, tight-lipped. "I've been waiting for you to finally tell me," she said quietly. He nearly gaped. "You knew?" She nodded. "Colin accidentally dropped enough hints for me to put two and two together." Richard frowned. "He did, did he? We agreed on silence...does Mom know?" Alex shook her head. "I don't think so." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Will you try to convince me to stay? It won't do any -" Alex shook her head again. "I know any arguments I'll make will be useless. I trust you to take care of yourself." He could have hugged her. "Thank you," he said earnestly. She sighed. "But why?" "I'll tell both you and Mom at the same time," he promised. "Will you help me convince her?" She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "I'll do what I can, but that doesn't mean I'm entirely at peace with it," she said, wagging a finger at him. He grinned. "Thank you, little sis." She smiled back, but it seemed half-hearted to him.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Richard and Alexis brought the tea into the living room and gave it to their mother, who was conversing with Colin. "Oh, thank you, son," she said, taking the cup from him and breathing in its scent. Richard smiled briefly, then took his seat in a chair near her. He looked at Alex for help on how to begin. <i>Your responsibility</i>, she mouthed with a barely perceptible wink. Their mother caught the exchange but didn't understand, and after watching them uncertainly for a minute, remarked, "Richard, Colin tells me you have an announcement!" Richard glared at Colin, who shrugged sheepishly. He playfully punched Colin's shoulder, but soon became serious. He wasn't quite sure how to begin, so he stated it quickly, hoping to get it over with. "I'm going into the military." His mother's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?" He nodded. "I've been thinking about this for a long time." She looked down for a moment. "Does Alexis know?" she asked quietly. Alex nodded. "He told me in the kitchen." Their mother rubbed her temples as if she'd spontaneously developed a headache. Richard ran his fingers through his hair. "Mom. Please -" "Shhh," she whispered, and Richard looked anxiously at Alex. She shrugged helplessly.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His mother seemed to struggle to calm herself. "You remember your father, don't you?" Richard raised his chin and answered, "Yes, ma'am, I remember what happened to him." "Then why, Richard?" she looked up, her eyes pained. "Why do you want to do this to me?" He looked away. "I'm not doing it to hurt you." Convicted, she wiped her eyes and straightened. "No, I'm sure you aren't...I'm sorry." Her voice was sincere. "You are an adult who can make his own decisions. But can't you tell me why you want to do this?" Richard heaved a sigh and glanced around the room. Alex and Colin were sitting next to each other, anxious and disturbed. He hated to fluster Alexis like this. He cast her a reassuring look and she smiled faintly. "I..." How could he tell them the truth? They would all disagree, try to convince him to leave off his mission. But he needed to do something, and if his family wasn't going to let him do it if they knew, he wasn't going to tell them.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I just feel like I need to...follow my father." He cringed inwardly; that was the biggest lie he'd ever told his own mother. She was nodding, understanding, and his heart dropped to his stomach when she said, "Well, I'm proud of you then. Your father was a good man." <i>And I am </i>not," he thought miserably. She took his hands in hers and a tear trickled out of her eye. "I'm going to miss you. You'll write to us, right?" <i>I am the worst son in the world</i>, he thought as he nodded. Alexis got up and stood before him, hands clasped together. Suddenly she hugged him, gently at first, and then tightened her hold. "I'm going to miss you, also," she murmured. He hesitated, shocked, then hugged her back, his heart sinking lower and lower. <i>I am also the worst brother in the world.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As you might imagine, Richard merely wanted to punish those who killed his father in war. An ambitious young 29-year old man was just what the...erm, Bad Guys... wanted, and they found him and told him that his father had been part of them before he was killed by the...erm, good guys. Richard believed them. Even though his father had actually been part of the good guys and had been killed by the leader of the bad guys, whose name happens to be Ford, as I'm sure you'll remember from my last post. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Richard really didn't stop loving his family or caring about them. He did write to them before he joined the BGs. It's just that once he started on his vengeful path with such terrible influences around him in the BG community, he found that thinking of his family caused him to feel guilty. As he grew older, he found his thirst for revenge to be childish, and put it away for the pure joy of being MEAN. MEAN RICHARD. And thinking about his dear sister Alexis and beloved mother just made him FEEL. And he couldn't tolerate FEELING. It distracted him from his work. Therefore, he allowed them to believe he was dead.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In the second book that I might write, there may be more of Alexis. Because I really like her. Who else likes Alex? Anyway, she may or may not go on a mission to find her brother after she discovers he may yet be alive.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or I'll go back in time and revisit her family's life.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or I'll continue the Hitchhiker story as it left off.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or....um, out of ideas. I call for a vote. Even though it might not actually influence my final decision, it's fun. Which idea do you guys like best?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fi"><span class="hps">รlรค ole tuollainen Richard,</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fi"><span class="hps">-Ashley</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fi"><span class="hps">(Because I'm nice: <a href="http://translate.google.com/#auto/fi/">http://translate.google.com/#auto/fi/</a>)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fi"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fi"><span class="hps">P.S. Don't any of you actually care about Cameron and Natalie, or are you ALL rooting for these random secondary characters that will hardly even appear in the book/s/?!?!?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8640020821938756907.post-82711998429760571222013-08-20T21:27:00.000-07:002013-08-20T21:27:55.228-07:00Maybe Not Quite So Deluxe...<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b>This post is really short, really late, and really written at 11:00 pm.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So don't judge. ;)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This piece of writing, once again inspired by a writing prompt and once again in the Hitchhiker world, is written from Lucy's perspective. How I loathe Lucy. I've been writing this off and on all day; the majority was written at 11:00. Therefore, it's probably not too good. Therefore, this is the one post that I don't want any negative feedback on because it's not fair. xD</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Just coffee." Richard leaned against the counter and waited impatiently for an employee to give him his order. Lucy frowned. She couldn't understand how he lived on coffee and yet still had those muscles. He hardly worked out in his spare time, too - at least, as far as she knew, and she prided herself on knowing a lot about him. They were, after all, partners.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Richard moved away with his coffee and she stepped up, setting her elbows on the counter and smiling sweetly at the handsome young waiter. "Can you get me a salad and a diet Coke?" She would show Richard how to eat healthy. She considered ordering a cheeseburger in case he really wanted to eat after smelling her food. But he merely stood against the wall, watching her with cold impatience. She sighed. One day he would warm up to her.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The employees were taking too long with her order; she didn't have to time to wait all day. "Hurry up!" She snapped. They just nodded and called, "We're working on it, ma'am!" Their politeness only annoyed her more, and when they finally handed her her tray, she snatched it out of their hands angrily and followed Richard away.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ford was sitting at a table in the corner. Richard sat down on the opposite side and calmly sipped his coffee while Lucy set her tray next to him and started eating. No one spoke for the next few minutes as they finished their food and drinks.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Richard. Tell Lucy what you saw yesterday," Ford spoke up in his smooth voice. Lucy didn't miss the annoyance in Richard's face as he set down his cup and, without looking at her, said, "Cameron. On the road. Hitchhiking." Her jaw dropped. "That's impossible!" she argued. Ford frowned. "I didn't bring you here to defend yourself. What I want you to do is find the girl who picked him up and make her tell you where she dropped him off." He turned to Richard. "Give us the specifics again." Richard looked up as if reading words off the ceiling. "They were about a mile down the road from the jail when he got into her car.." Ford raised up his hand. "According to the information you gave me last night, you have approximately thirty minutes before Natalie passes through this part of town. Talk fast or talk on the way." Lucy cleared her throat, still unable to believe what Richard had said. "How do you know her name? And if this was Cameron you saw -" "It was," Richard interrupted irritably. She snorted. "<i>If</i> it was Cameron, why didn't you follow him?" He looked away. Ford smirked. "That has already been dealt with. Now off, and he will tell you on the way what I want you to do." Richard seemed grateful to be leaving, but Lucy still had questions. "How do you know who she is? What does he want us to do? Where are we going?" Her partner groaned. "I'll tell you. Let's go."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I dread when I shall wake up tomorrow and realize how terrible this is. Good night, faithful readers, and thanks for putting up with my incompetence. :)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-A Very Tired Ashley </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><b> </b></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273623014992842594noreply@blogger.com3