NaNoWriMo Day 7: The End of Week One

One week down, just over four more to go. It's an hour until the end of Week One of NaNoWriMo, and I am resting comfortably at nearly 12000 words. A quarter of my novel is done, or just about. 

Between school, our fall musical, and NaNo I have been working nonstop. Most of my classes are so mind numbingly easy that I just sit and write through most of them. So, most nights I hit my word goal before 10 PM. 

Week One has been the beginning of a whirlwind adventure. I found a novel idea and went with it, letting it take me where ever it pleases. Sure, my characters need a little more oomph, and the plot is slowly (but surely) unfolding, but, hey, I'm writing my butt off. I know where I want to go and I'm getting there. My main character, Rowan, the name sake of the book, still isn't sure exactly what she wants, and some of her opinions aren't clear, but the sass is strong with her. 

And from that we segue directly into the main topic of this post: Books on Fiction Writing. 

I avoid "How To" books about writing like they are ebola and I am America. Sorry, too soon? Most books about writing are so bad that they are not even worth cutting down the trees used to make them. I would rather eat razor blades than read some of the books about writing that are out there. 

Some people say, "Those who can't, teach."

Writing Magic
 By Gail Carson Levine

I say, "Those who can't, write books about how to." 

The first book about writing that I ever purchased was by Gail Carson Levine, the lovely author of Ella Enchanted. Her book on writing was titled Writing Magic, and I bought it because I thought it was an actual novel. To this day, it is one of the most well used books that I own. What I loved about it most was the way she talked about how she wrote and the fact that she didn't try to shove her way down your throat. To middle school me, it was a godsend. 

No Plot? No Problem!
By Chris Baty

A few years later, after two or three years of doing NaNoWriMo, I asked for No Plot? No Problem! A Low Stress, High-Velocity Guide to Writing a Novel in 30 Days by Chris Baty, the founder of NaNoWriMo. Even though I wasn't in the middle of NaNo, I read it anyway. The book is specific to NaNo, but offers tons of helpful tips and trick for any kind of writing. 

On Writing
By Stephen King

Probably the best book about writing that I have ever read is On Writing by Stephen King. On Writing is half-memoir, half-writing advise and completely and utterly fascinating. I've never been a huge reader of Stephen King, but I heard that On Writing was a must read. When I found it randomly at a Barnes and Nobel, I knew I had to take it home. I consumed the book in a matter of days. King tells his story beginning to middle (because he's not dead), describing how he became a writer and the events in his life that influenced his choice. In the second part, King tells how he writes, some rules of thumb for drafts and editing, and advise on writing and showing your work. On Writing is a little more strict about how writing should be done, but at the same time King understands that not every story will follow every rule and not every writer is the same. King is intelligent, witty, and downright hilarious at times. Read it. Read it now. 

So, moral of the story is: There are some good books on writing out there, they are just hard to find. Watch out for imposing bastards who try to shove their "correct ways of writing" down your throat. 

I hope you guys take a look at some of these. And, if you read them, comment below about what you think about them! I'd love to hear more. 

~snowie

NaNoWriMo Day One: Diving In

It's just past 11 P.M. where I live, and the great first day of NaNoWriMo is drawing to a close. The only reason I'm writing this post instead of my novel is because I'm exhausted and I put 2033 words in already. So, why not blog about it?

Last night, I decided to scrap the "first" idea that I had for my story. Something about it just felt off. However, I kept at least two of the characters, the title, and one character description: Rowan and Petra; Rowan; and Thief, respectively. I made myself go to sleep after fretting for an hour about not having a plot. I told myself that I would find one today, and I have.

I'm diving in. Nothing planned. Just an inkling of an idea. And, it's scary. It's nothing I've ever written before. It's something I know very little about. I have complete control and no control at the same time. And, it also makes me say this: take the phrase "write what you know" and set it on fire.

Writers who say "write what you know" are just afraid of the unknown. They don't have the guts to take an idea and jump right in. Nope, they prefer to stay in the safe zone, perhaps poking a toe outside the line when absolutely necessary.

Do you think that J.K. Rowling knew everything about Wizardry when she wrote Harry Potter? No. Did James Patterson know anything about human-avian hybrids when he wrote Maximum Ride? No, probably not.

I guess what I trying to say is that writing is an art. Art is what gives life meaning. When you write about something you don't know, you are helping yourself as a writer and a person, and you are adding your own little twist to something that might have been written a thousand times before.

Experiment. Expand your mind. Expand the mind of your readers. Write what you don't know.


Have a Happy NaNoWriMo!

~snowie

Biting the Bullet: NaNoWriMo Begins in 3… 2… 1...

People often ask me why there's a picture of a bird as the header for my blog about writing. Actually, no, they don't. I ask myself that, and then I tell myself it looks badass. But really, I'm too lazy to change it.

It's been a while since I have posted anything, and for that there is no excuse. However, as November 1st draws near, and I get more excited and nervous, all I want to do is blog about it.

For those of you who don't know, this is my sixth year of National Novel Writing Month. By the end of the month, hopefully it will be my sixth year of winning. Unlike the last two years, this year I had no clue what to write about. This scared me a little. Last year, I wrote City of Stone, a dystopian tale that I am pretty proud of. The year before that I rewrote my baby, The Night Stalker. This year, I feel that I have some high expectations which is intimidating. This NaNoWriMo will be my last NaNo in high school. Next year in college, everything will be different.

So far, I know my novel will follow a girl named Rowan. I had something planned out, but now that I look at it, I'm not sure if what I had is Rowan's story. Yes, a buddhist futuristic Robin Hood-type character sounds awesome, but since the day I first thought of that idea something always felt off.

There are two types of writers: the ones who have to plan every single detail out and the ones who don't. I fall into the later category. I have always believed that there is no write or wrong when it comes to writing. Writing is the one place where the rules of language can be twisted until they are unrecognizable, as long as it is done well. What works for one writer may not work well for another. This is no different.

Both types of writers have their pros and cons, just like everything else. Detail oriented authors have less writer's block because they know exactly what happens next and how to get there. However, this type of writing can be very restrictive.

I prefer to not plan out what I write. When I write, I feel like I am reporter watching the action and writing it down in vivid detail. I have an idea where the story will lead, but I'm not quite sure. Characters, scenes, and plot develop and often have surprising and amazing outcomes. I like to use the analogy of an archeologist. I'm digging up bits and pieces, uncovering them, and I sort of know what will be there, but there's always a surprise or two. I found that the more I plan out a story, the faster I get bored with a story. I don't want to write a story where I already know what's going to happen. That's why I can't read the same book twice.

But, like I said, just because I do it doesn't mean you have to. Every writer is different. Every mind works in a different way. It's taken me years to figure out how I write, and even now I'm still not sure. It's all about experimentation. Don't let "experts" tell you what to do. Find your own way.

There is no write way to write. You just have to write.

Happy Halloween and Happy NaNoWriMo!
Let me know how your novel is going in the comments…

~snowie

Creative Writers United 2014

Hello, hello, hello!

And welcome to the annual Creative Writer's United convention where coffee is king and adverbs don't matter. My name is Emily and I shall be your wonderful, amazing, stunning, perfect, and ever humble host. 

On a more serious matter, writing is nothing to be trifled with. No, no. We are the few and the mighty who truly understand how words shape the world. Writers create worlds and people and new ideas. Writers can influence what a person thinks of the world. Writers inspire imagination and innovation and other 'I' words that escape me. Can any other profession say all of that? 

No matter. But, we must not let our heads explode with how awesome we are. Because above all, we writers must stay connected to humanity. Can we bake a beautiful cake? Probably not. Can we hold our breath underwater for more than thirty seconds? Probably not. Can we run a full marathon without walking once? No. We can not. But we can write about it!

My dear, dear writers. That is what we can do. We may not be able to climb Mount Everest, but we can stay up writing until four a.m. And we may not be able to figure out how to do our taxes, but by golly, we can fix a plot hole like that. We can whip up a short story in two seconds flat and make our reader's cry at two in the morning. 

Why? Because we. Are. Writers! My dear friends, Writers! Writers! Writers! Recorders of the world. Thinkers of the universe. We can make you believe that a giraffe is exactly like a teacup, that couches can talk, and bookshelves have feelings. We know why a raven is like a writing desk. We are grammar nazis, typo terrorists, and plot bunny collectors. And our only arch-nemesis is the dreaded Writer's Block. 

Oh... Writer's block... Thou unmuzzled base-court measle! You leave us staring at a blank page for hours watching that little line no one knows the name of blink-blink-blinking. You are the reason we don't write for months at a time because we simply can't. Because of writer's block, we are up at four in the morning surrounded by empty cups of coffee, staring at that silly white page with the blink-blink-blinking. We are so desperate to write something that we will do ANYTHING. And by anything I mean anything. My go to is always a cat-eating taco, sorry, a taco eating cat. And, trust me. The worse the writer's block is the crazier things we do. I had this one friend who once hung upside down for an hour because she believed the extra blood in her brain would kill her writer's block. That did not end well. 

So, when you are curled up in a ball at four in the morning, know this dear writers, that you, indeed are awesome. As awesome as light-up socks and glow in the dark tic-tacs... If those exist. 

Before I let you go to better yourself and your writing, I leave you with this. May your word counts be large and your characters believable. And above all, have a wonderful Creative Writers United 2014!

~snowie

Are You Tired And Unmotivated? Check This Out!

For the low, low price of nothing at all, I bring you the Ultimate Guide to Getting Over Writer's Block and Procrastination (UGGOWBP)!

It's fun! It's sparkly! And it's not guaranteed to help you in any way, but, hey, we'll try!

Drumroll, please...

Close enough.

Step One
Stop staring at that blank page. It's not going to move. It's not going to fill itself with beautiful, crappy writing. And that blinking bar (also know as the insertion point) will just drive you into a deeper form of insanity.

That's right. Stand up. Walk out that door. Continue walking for... I don't know... An hour. Or until people start staring at you because you haven't bothered to change out of your pajamas. 

Step Two

While walking, acknowledge this simple fact–

Writing is hard!! And not all people are cut out for it. You, however, are a mighty warrior who will fill all sheets of paper with drama and tension and death. Ok. Maybe not death. 

Step Three

Once you've returned home, shut the computer off. Yes, you heard what I said. SHUT IT OFF. NOW.

Good. 

Now pick up a pen/cil and some paper. That's right. We're going old school.

Step Four
Write. About anything, anyone, anywhere. Write about a memory of yours or a distant land. Write about a girl you've never met. Good, bad, disgusting, I don't care. Just write something. You don't have to finish it. You don't even have to like it. Challenge yourself to write one page, then two, then three.

If you still have Writer's Block at this point, return to Step One. If you still have Procrastination, well, you probably haven't made it this far yet. 

Step Five

Now that you have successfully reached Step Five, repeat Step Four for a couple of days until all is right in your world. At that point, you may return to the computer and fill that blank sheet of paper with joy and sadness. Should Writer's Block ever strike again, just return to step one. 

Now, may the force be ever in your favor, Mr. Potter. 

Love, 

Gandalf

That's pretty much it. I hope UGGOWBP really helped you because I know it helped me! Just follow these steps and you'll go from this:

To this:

In very little time!

The Best of Writing,

~Snowie

P.S. Sorry for the long vacation. I guess I needed a break. I couldn't think of anything to write about.

Nothing Worth Saying

For the past week or so, I have been racking my brain for ideas for blog posts. So far, my ideas are nonexistent. I also thought about talking about my new typewriter.
I don't want to do an update or a rant or anything that doesn't help and interest you in some way.

I've been reading the Writer's Digest, hoping to discover some information that I could use in the publishing field. I read twenty or thirty articles from authors who had gone through revision, editing, and, eventually publishing. Many of them have multiple books published and are full-time writers. You could probably fit every article into 3 categories: Publishing, Platforming, and Editing. Editing articles contained lots of helpful tips to make your plot and characters more enjoyable and publishable. Platforming explained ways you could expand your audience. Publishing articles tried to explain how to get published. And, failed.

The Publishing articles commanded the reader to find an agent, not how or where; to ask questions about things, but not what questions to ask; to be involved, but at the same time stay out of the publication team's way. Reading them, I came back more confused than ever.

For "rounded" writing minds, both analytical and creative, Editing articles are rather enjoyable. Usually, the author explains the problem, what to look for, and how he/she fixes it. Nice, simple, easy. Although, most of the tips can be taken with a grain of salt, because not everything will work for all writers and writing styles.

Platforming, or rather an Author's Platform, is one of the greatest assets any author can have. For example, this blog is considered a part of my platform. It is where I reach out and contact people. A good author platform includes, but is not limited to book readings, blogs, websites, social media (Facebook, Twitter, ect.), and tours. It's an author's fan base. The majority of John Green's author platform has evolved from his and his brother's youtube channel, Vlogbrothers. In a sense, Vlogbrothers is the reason for John Green's success in the writing world.

As an aspiring writer myself, this need to have a huge author's platform is quite scary. Social media has never been my thing. Writing novels is easier than writing a Facebook status or a Tweet on Twitter. One of my newest goals is to work on self promotion. Just this morning, I woke up my Twitter account that I never used and started following writers and editors. I'm planning on making another Youtube video soon, and start commenting on other people's videos. Perhaps I'll get back on Figment. I'll contact real, living authors and ask them questions. I would contact Shakespeare if I could, but unfortunately a time machine hasn't been sent to me yet. This blog has been around for four or five years, and I want to help it thrive and grow.

I have to get over this fear of social networking and find something worth while to say.

Live long and write prosperously,

~Em

The Life and Times of the Undefined
Instagram
Tumblr
Figment
Twitter

28 Things I Wish I Knew Before Becoming A Writer

28 Things I Wish I Knew Before Becoming A Writer...

1. Nothing will ever be perfect... Ever.

2. Even if you don't outline the plot, have a rough idea what you're writing about. 

3. Words are messy things...

4. And you won't always make sense. 

5. Find someone who loves writing as much as you.

6. There is no set way to do anything... Only Suggestions.

7. You will try and fail, try and fail, try and fail, try and fail.... Then maybe succeed. 

8. 3 AM is the best and the worst time to write. 

9. NO ONE (Unless they, too, are a writer) will understand why you write.

10. Friends and family will be the most and least supportive of you. 

11. If anyone asks you what you are writing, the easiest answer is to lie and say, "I'm writing an essay."

12. Coffee, Coffee, COFFEE followed by copious amounts of tea. 

13. Good music is the key. I recommend anything not written by Nicki Minaj, Justin Beiber, or anyone who has been featured in Seventeen Magazine.

14. Putting words on paper is easy. Making them make sense is not.

15. Don't procrastinate. In fact, procrastinate on procrastination.

16. You're still going to procrastinate.

17. When Writer's Block hits, try writing in a different room, house, or city.

18. Cafés are, in fact, one of the best places to write and edit. This is not just something Hollywood made up.

19. Writing is like exercising, you have to make time for it.

20. Writing everyday is the only way you get better.

21. Writing is like air- unpredictable, but constant, and without all of the calories. 

22. Read. Read, read, read, readreadreadreadreadreadreadread. Read as many bestsellers as you can get your hands on. Read bad books. Read good books. Read short books. Read long books. Just read!

23. Sooner or later, finish everything you write.

24. Nothing you write is crap. Ever. Even the bad stuff. The bad stuff teaches you what not to do.

25. Tell the truth when you are writing, and never write what you don't believe, even if it's not what everyone else thinks. 

26. In one way or another, little pieces of you are going to weave themselves into your work.

27. Never be afraid to say what you need to say. Sometimes words are better said on paper than from lips. 

28. Finishing something feels like this....

~Snowie

P.S. Love my use of gifs?

Why Write It?

The final installment in The Night Stalker Q&A series is brought to you by Banana (TM). Bananas are good!

Perhaps the most important thing to know about any story is why the author wrote it. Why did they put the time and the effort in to writing, editing, and publishing this particular story? What's so important about it?

As I was growing up, I always felt like there were more books for boys with manly, handsome action heroes and ditzy girls. The girls were princesses who wait in towers to be rescued and can hardly pick up a pillow. I was never that girl. Ever. I was the strongest girl in my grade and could beat all of the boys at arm wrestling. Perhaps that is why my imaginary friend and my first ever not stollen from another story character was a B.A. elf named Arya Poisonhold.

I'm still probably one of the strongest girls in my grade, but all of the boys can beat me at arm wrestling. Karma.

For much of my childhood, I longed for the strong, heroic female characters that I was missing. I felt out of place because to be pretty, you had to be Barbie. And Barbie wasn't strong or B.A.

When I started writing The Night Stalker, I think I was trying to fill the void of a strong, female role model. If you look at everything I've written up two about a year ago, you'll find that all of my main characters are strong, heroic females. The first book I wrote where the protagonist wasn't a strong female was Loving Amelia Perfect, which I wrote last summer. The two main characters are Amy, a shy girl who is secretly agnostic; and Ben, a social outcast with major family and relationship troubles. Ben was the first time one of my narrators was a guy.

Now, books are changing. More and more protagonists are heroic females like Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games and Tris from Divergent. Writers are saying that girls don't have to be skinny to be pretty. Any shape or size is beautiful. People don't have to be perfect, they just have to do the right thing and be strong. Don't let people push you around. Make your own decisions.

This is exactly what I'm trying to get through in The Night Stalker. I want to tell girls that they can be independent and make their own decisions, go after dreams, and kick fear in the butt. Gail isn't a perfect person. She's stubborn and very independent. Gail doesn't take orders well and will decide to go off and do her own thing in the blink of an eye. But, at the same time, she knows when to be smart, when to stay, and when to help people. She doesn't try to act stupid around guys, and she repeatedly doesn't do what they want her to do. Though there is romance in The Night Stalker, the romance isn't a huge part of the storyline. Gail is focussed on other things like finding her mother, defeating the Alliance, and deciding, as the Night Stalker, if what she is doing is right. I wanted to show that there is more to life than romance, and that you don't need someone to love you in order to be a good and amazing person.

That's all I have today. Take it away, Banana (TM)!

Banana (TM) because bananas are good! Free fez with a purchase of thirty bananas. 
Bananas are great for everyone. Warning: Bananas may cause extreme energy boosts and acute healthiness. Eat regularly. For free fez, send in the form with proof of purchase. 


Best of Writing!

~Snowie

The Thames Family

They're smart and they're witty, 

Bloodthirsty and broken, 
They're all together crazy, 
The Thames Family. 


(Fail.)

Abigal and Thomas Thames

Abigal Thames is the sort of person who gives an order and people follow it, no questions asked. She is about 5'8" with orange, curly hair and brown eyes. In 2018, she was 53.

Thomas is quieter than his wife and very smart. He is a weapons inventor for the military and his wife's partner. Thomas is a year older than Abigal with brown hair and the Thames's green eyes. 

Abigal and her future husband, Thomas, met in high school. At age 18, she and Thomas joined the army. Abigal worked as a nurse, but soon made her way into the ranks with her remarkable knowledge of military strategy. Abigal's father was a general in the army. After seven years of fighting alongside Thomas, Abigal married him. Abigal and Thomas had three children: Matthew and Phillip, born when Abi was 25; and Gail, born when Abi was 32, just after Matt and Phillip were kidnapped. In 2000, Abby was selected as the Strategist for Operation Light. She and two others (Noah’s Dad and a general) prepared a plan to protect the United States from the impending Alliance Attack. Operation Light was finished just months before the attack. Abigal was captured and taken. She was assumed to be dead.

Abigal and Thomas were scientists in the first versions of The Night Stalker when The Night Stalker revolved around DNA and super soldiers. Although the story is told from Gail's point of view, the plot revolves mostly around Abigal and her part in the war, but that's a huge post for another time. I chose Abigal mostly to connect Gail to the rest of the war and put Gail in the center of everything- almost accidentally. Also, Abigal has a really amazing backstory, and is a kick-butt 50 year old woman.

Matthew

Matthew is tall with brown hair and green eyes, like his father. He has a very strong survival instinct and is a natural leader, like Abigal, his mother.

Matthew was kidnapped at age 7, and thought to have been killed because he was weak. A nice soldier let him go, and Matt spent time in Europe traveling from family to family and trying to get back to the United States. He couldn’t go to an Embassy because Alliance had spies everywhere. Matt met up with the European Rebellion after war started. He also met Abigal, but didn’t realize it was his mom. However, Abigal knew it was him. Matthew rose through the Rebellion ranks and was kidnapped by Hamilton to be taken to the United States.

Philip

Philip is the son of Abigal and Thomas Thames. He is the older identical twin brother of Matthew. He has been mentally and physically abused for most of his life, so Philip is filled with rage and hate towards everyone in his life. 

Philip lived in Brownings City, PA until he was kidnapped at age 7 with Matthew. He was raised in Russia under the guidance of Alliance leader Alyxandr Romov. Philip hates his parents and Gail which was the main reason he attacked the United States. This hate was caused by Romov's psychological torture on Philip. Philip married an older woman named Eleanor at age 15. They had Hamilton same year. Eleanor was 18. Philip was forced to marry Eleanor because Romov wanted two heirs to the Alliance throne. Philip later killed Romov and took over the Alliance.

Hope you enjoyed another round of Things You Didn't Know But Know Not About The Night Stalker! Happy Holidays!

~Snowie

The Who, The What, The Where, The When, and The Why. Everything You Need To Know About The Night Stalker

What is The Night Stalker?
Why is it called that?
Who is in it? Why?
Where is it? Why?
Why? Why? Why?
Why?

Many of you may be wondering what in the world The Night Stalker even is. And, if you are a close friend, you probably can't ever remember. How supportive.

So, to clear up the confusion and put it down on paper, I now give you a short less than three hundred word summary of The Night Stalker's wonderful plot.

Two years after World War III began, Gail Thames's mother was captured by the Alliance, a Russian based mafia. Six years later, there still has been no word of Abigal's status. The Alliance now controls the world and the people in it. There is only one hope for freedom- the Rebellion. As Rebel and Alliance forces clash world wide, Gail is handed a paper proving her mother is still alive and well in the Freeland. Traveling with a Rebel battalion, Gail heads to Maine to search for her mother. But, a soldier's journey is never straight, and dark secrets never stay hidden long.

There you have it. The Night Stalker summary in less than 300 worlds.

~Snowie

The End of All Things (Or At Least a Few)

When something ends, another thing must begin.

NaNoWriMo ended. And the beginning of novelling after of NaNoWriMo began.

November ended. December began.

2012 is ending, and 2013 is about to begin.

And according to some people, the world is ending soon. The beginning of a universe without an Earth populated by people will begin. To you I say... Yeah... Sure.

And last, but not least, The Night Stalker will be ending soon. I will finally allow myself to begin editing, polishing, and looking for a wonderful and very talented agent/publisher.

If you ask me, this November was very successful. I (re)wrote a novel!! You wrote a novel!!! You sat back and laughed at our craziness! You only wrote half a page! What ever you did, I clap for you. We had fun, I think. I nearly made it to 60,000 words in a month. I am actually just over 59,000 words and counting.

Soon, I hope to be posting more both on here and on YouTube. I have a book picked out to start recording, and I have a ton of Night Stalker Q&A I am really excited about writing for Writing Thoughts. 

During the month of December I am doing a No T.V. Challenge. You can stay updated with all of that on AnAwfulLotOfRunning, my nerdy workout blog and tumblr. Feel free to check it out while listening to awesome music. 

In the mean time, get some sleep. You deserve it.

Happy writings,

~Snowie

The Importance of Being Public

If you are anything like me (unpublished and afraid to let ANYONE read what you have written), here is a little knowledge. You are probably doing the whole writing thing all wrong. I bet you keep a journal. It might be a writing journal, daily journal, or a when-ever-you-feel-like-it journal. Point is it is a journal. Journals are a GREAT thing to keep. I have been writing in one for nearly one year now. I have filled up two and a half journals with little musings and my day to day activities and encounters. Not only do they help someone with a terrible memory like mine, they also make you write something everyday wether you like it or not. Journals can also teach you a valuable lesson.

There are two types of writing- personal and public. Personal writing would count as the journal on you desk or the writing you never let anyone read.  Public writing would be published novels, newspaper articles, your English essay you should currently be writing, basically, anything you read that is not written by you.

If you are constantly writing personal writing, you are writing for yourself and only yourself. The only feedback you have to go on is the feedback you give yourself. That my friends can be a very bad thing indeed. You are one in seven billion. I am sorry to tell you this, but not everyone thinks like you and is entertained by the things that amuse you.

So, now is the time to stop writing for yourself and start writing for others. think about what they might like instead of what you might like. But, be sure to include things that you like. After all, this is your book and you should to love it. People want to hear what you have to say. They just don't want to be bored to death while reading it.

Let's say you do try to start writing for others. You pick up a pen or open a word document and start putting down the first words of what could be your best work yet. Everything is going fine until you realize, hey, I suck at this. A lot. Public writing won't come easy right away. Granted, there are a few talented people who might pick it up right away. You have heard it before, but I will tell you again. The only way to get better is to keep writing. Write, write, write!

Good writing!

~Snowie

Some of My Favorite Writing Resources Part Two

Why hello. Might I say that you look fabulous today.

Wasn't July Amazing? I had so much fun Writing Something Everyday in July that I almost decided to give August a try. Just kidding. That would be a lot of work.

So, today I went to volleyball, but after that I came home and sat down at my computer. I stared at the screen and told myself that I should probably do something productive. After checking my e-mail and Facebook, I rechecked my e-mail because I had an idea. Don't you love ideas? One e-mail had caught my eye. The message was from a blog that I follow called The Flourishing Abode. April Starr, the lady who writes the blog, titled the post 10 things you shouldn't miss. In the post, Starr writes about 10 websites. Two of these websites caught my eye and looking at the post also reminded me of a Part Two post I never did.

Some of you might remember my post titled Some of My Favorite Writing Resources Part One. If you don't, click the hyperlink and a new window will open with the post. All of the sites are really fun and helpful in writing.

I did promise a Part Two post with seven more sites. So, here they are.

Daily Writing Tips

This site does exactly what someone would think the site would do. It gives you writing tips on a near daily basis. The writers cover everything from Yiddish Words to using Artist or Artisan. Some of the posts require a higher than freshman level of english knowledge to understand, but all posts contain useful information as all posts should. 

The NaNoWriMo Young Writers Program, NaNoWriMo, and Script Frenzy

I know, I talk about these sites way too much. I find it hard to stop talking about awesome things. In a nutshell, the Young Writers Program and NaNoWriMo are the same thing. Both are about writing 50,000 words in one month and both are managed by The Office of Letters and Light. There is one big difference. NaNoWriMo is for people thirteen and older while YWP is for the youngsters. Cool right?Script Frenzy starts in April. Basically, you write a 100 page script in one month. I have yet to complete a single Script Frenzy. 

Writer's Digest

Writer's Digest is all about the writer's digestive system. I'm just kidding with you. A writer's digestive system is a very scary place full of adverbs, replacements for said like gasped and exclaimed, and tons upon tons of coffee. Or tea. Whatever floats your boat. If you are a subscriber, to Writer's Digest, then I envy you. Not only do you get great writing content, you get awesome advise on everything to do with writing. If you are running a little short on cash, you can always subscribe to the free weekly newsletter. The newsletter includes writing prompts, advise on getting published, news from the writing world, latest blogs from WD bloggers, and more. 

And finally, the last two sites are the eye catching sites from the Flourishing Abode post. 

Rainymood.com

If you are anything like me, nothing gets you more in the writing mood like a good rainy day. Rainymood.com does exactly that. Just plug in your nice comfy headphones, grab a cup of Joe or that tea you have been wanting to try, and type away to the sound of a never ending rainstorm. 

43 Things

Ever have trouble setting, remembering, and following through with goals? Just sign up on 43 Things and enter all of your goals. People using the website can cheer you on. If you have a goal that requires more than one person, a team can be created. 43 Things let you set reminders for goals and write a diary entry about the progress made on the goal.

To finish things off, I love hearing from the people who read what I write. Don't be afraid to comment. I have never been a fan of saying that, which is why I made this...

~Snowie

July 23rd WSEIJM

The Running Begins

Mom and Dad are dead. James is dead. Ramen is also dead. Ramen killed them and I killed Ramen. Just last night I had given Ramen a bath, fed him, and petted him until he fell asleep in his kennel. Yesterday morning, he ran three miles with me. A week ago, he went hunting with me and my dad. What had happened? Did Ramen have rabies? It was unlike any rabies I had ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of dogs with rabies. My dad was the only vet in Mason County, Alabama. I worked for him in the summer and I was planning to go to college and become a vet next fall. I was going to take over dad’s business. People around here always needed vets. 

Mikey clung to me, he had finished crying. Now, we both sat against the wall staring at Ramen. 

“Why can’t I go get Daddy?” Mikey asked. 

I felt a lump in my throat and almost couldn’t answer. “Daddy and Mommy are sleeping. Just like James. We can’t wake them up.”

“Is Wa-men sleeping, too, Jelly?” I smiled a little. At four years old, Mikey still couldn’t say Julie or Ramen. I ruffled his blond hair. 

“You know it.” I went back to staring at Ramen. It wasn’t rabies. I hadn’t seen any bites when I gave him a bath. If not rabies, then what? A mental disorder that suddenly appeared? What was new? What had been changed in Ramen’s life recently?

Nothing. 

I stood up and felt the drying blood crack on my skin. I needed to get this off. I needed a shower, desperately. This wasn’t deer blood or wild boar blood or fish blood. This blood was human and dog blood. I carried Mikey down the hall and into the kitchen. I tried to call the police again, but no one picked up. There was no way Ramen could have cut the lines. There was no way a dog was smart enough to do that. I wasn’t smart enough to do that. Something was seriously wrong. I set Mikey on the counter. “Wait right here. Don’t move.” I grabbed a box of cereal and handed it to him. “Eat this. I’m going to go talk to Mrs. Davis. I’ll be back in a minute.”

From behind me through the glass door, there was a high pitched whine. I turned around slowly. Mrs. Davis’s golden retriever, Boxy, stood at the door, his tail was wagging. And, everything would have been perfectly normal if there wasn’t blood trailing down his front.

This has to be a nightmare.

Boxy growled and barked at us. He back up and pounced at the window. The door rattled, but the glass held. I grabbed Mikey from the counter and he dropped his cereal. He started crying again. I ran downstairs to the basement and locked the door. Above us, I could hear Boxy howling and barking as he slammed himself against the glass over and over. 

I set Mikey down on the washer and turned on the lights. But, the lights wouldn’t turn on. I cussed dad’s fondness for cheap lightbulbs and ran to the boxes of camping gear. I found a solar lantern and turned it on. The light was flickering ever so slightly and I knew there wasn’t much power left. I opened the curtains on the windows to let more light in. 

Quickly, I ripped open boxes of camping and hunting gear. I changed quickly in to my green pants and hiking boots with a new shirt and my mom’s old army jacket. I helped Mikey change and found two duffle bags. I filled one with clothes and the other with freeze dried food and water. I had no idea what was going on. I just new that I needed to run. Upstairs, there was a crash like breaking glass. It was breaking glass. Boxy had finally broken through the window. Mikey had started crying again and asking me what was happening. I screamed shut up at him. Luckily, he did. 

I opened dad’s gun case, thanking god that Dad trusted me enough with the code. I pulled out my shotgun and put it in the carrying case. I stuffed as many boxes of bullets as I could in with it and slung it over my shoulder. Next to my father’s gun was my mothers and beside that was my bow and arrow set. I was better with those than I was with the gun. Number one in the county, and when you lived in a county of backwoods country folk who lived off of what they hunted, being number one was a huge bragging right. 

But, bragging rights didn’t matter when the world you know is falling apart.

At the top of the stairs, I heard Boxy scratching at the door. I strung my bow with a hunting arrow. I would only get one, maybe two shots off at Boxy before he tried to maul me, too. And, I would need Mikey’s help to do it. While I was thinking about it, I grabbed my multipurpose hunting knife and hooked it through a loop in my cargo pants. Sitting on the washer was dad’s old camo hat. I can’t remember a day where he had not worn that hat. Now, I had an itching feeling he would never wear the hat again. I put my hair up in a pony tail and put the hat on. I gave Mikey a hug. “I need you to be brave, Mickey.”

Mickey stood at the door, his hand around the door knob. He was trying to be brave, but his whole body was shaking. With a little hand, he pushed his orange hat out of his eyes. 

“Remember what I told you Mikey?” I asked him. Mikey nodded. I drew my arm back, pulling the string to my ear. Boxy barked and scratched at the door. “On three, Mikey. One... Two... Three.”

Mikey opened the door at hide behind it. Boxy jumped through coming down the stairs at me. I let an arrow go. There was a thud as it hit Boxy in the wrong shoulder. Boxy whimpered and slowed down. I pulled another arrow and shot Boxy again at just a few feet away. Boxy tumbled down the rest of the stairs, two of my arrows jutting out of his chest. Before I could feel sorry for the dog, I jumped on top if it, pulling a knife and cutting open it’s throat. 

Boxy whimpered one last time before finally dying. I wiggled my arrows out from Boxy’s chest and quickly cleaned them. I tried wiping some of the blood off of me, but figured it would take to long. I grabbed one duffle bags. I could carry two, but then it would be impossible to shoot anything. I would have to make three trips to the truck and back. I had no idea how many dogs were effected. If all of the dogs in Hanson were affected, chances were all of their families were dead.

Mikey was still hiding behind the door. I coaxed him out and told him to stay close to me. We walked quickly out the door to the garage. I threw the duffle bag of clothes in the back beside some fishing gear and opened the truck. Mikey climbed in the middle. “Wait here. Don’t get out of the truck Mikey. Okay?”

“Okay. Can I have Rufus?”

Rufus was Mikey’s stuffed cat. “Sure. You can have Rufus if  you stay in the truck. Where is he?”

“Bed.” Mikey smiled a seemed to calm down a little. In Mikey’s bed, above James and Ramen.

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

I closed the truck door and ran back inside. I grabbed the duffle bag and managed to attach the gun safely to my bag. I ran back to the truck. Mikey was still sitting in the middle seat. I put the food bag in the passenger seat. “One more trip, buddy. I’ll get Rufus.”

I jogged back inside and grabbed my school bag. I dumped everything out. On the kitchen counter was my dad’s wallet. I grabbed it and his keys. I was about to go to the basement, but mom’s wedding ring caught my eye. I hesitated and grabbed that, too. What else? In the basement, I grabbed more camping things that I wasn’t able to fit in the clothes bag. All that was left now was Rufus. Better get it over quickly. I sprinted into the boys’ room and up the bunk bed ladder. Rufus was sitting there. I ran back out of the room without looking back. 

To my relief, Mikey was still sitting in the car. I opened the truck door and got ready to hit the garage door button and hop in the truck. With my luck today, there was bound to be a dog waiting outside the garage door. Four or five gas containers caught my attention before I hit the button. I threw them in the back of the truck. I slammed my hand against the button and jumped in the truck. No dog was waiting in the gravel driveway. I turned the truck on and backed out. 

Hanson consisted of one road an about forty houses. It was a small, unincorporated town. Everyone hunted and everyone farmed. It was about five minutes drive to Mason City, Mason County’s biggest city. And everyone had a dog or two. I drove slowly, checking each house for signs of life. There were, by the time I left Hanson, I had run over two bloody dogs and had about ten following me. I hit the highway and raced into town. I didn’t meet anyone on the way in. 

This is Part One of the Second "Chapter" in The Day The Dogs Went Wild. Hope you enjoyed it!

~Snowie

July 20th WSEIJM

Blood Thirsty

That morning, I was woken up by a single dog bark. And then, one by one all of the dogs in my neighbor hood joined in. The howl rose above the roofs of the houses like a mourning cry. And, when the howl had ended, a single savage bark came from the  room below me. And then I heard my little brother Michael scream. 

I jumped out of bed and ran out my closed bedroom door. I slowed down when Miky stopped screaming. Mom must have taken care of it. A quiet moment draped over the house, like someone had taken a deep breath and couldn’t let it out. The house was never this quiet. I jumped when the AC turned on, but something was still off. 

My parent’s door to their bed room was opened just a foot, so I peeked inside. The lights were still off, but I could easily see two bodies laying in the bed. The sheets were thrown everywhere. Why hadn’t they gotten out of bed. Mikey’s scream was louder then their alarm clock.

“Mom. Dad. Wake up. I think Mikey had a nightmare.” I waited, and they didn’t so much as moan. Were they even breathing? I stepped in the room, feeling along the cool, bumpy wall for the plastic light switch. Finally, a chance to get back at them for waking me up via light all those times. I flipped on the light and immediately wished I hadn’t.

The whole bed was soaked red, like someone had poured crimson dye over the sheets. Some of the sheets were torn and others were wrapped around the pale limbs of my parents. I backed up, slamming into the wall before running out of the room. I ran downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. I dialed 911 as I grabbed the biggest knife I could find in the kitchen. The phone rang and rang and rang and rang. No one ever answered. Down the hall, Mikey screamed again. I dropped the phone and ran towards his room. What if the killer was hurting them? Oh, god. James. 

The door was already opened. I burst in, slamming the door against the wall. Mikey sat in the corner of his bed, far away from the door. His face was pale white and he was crying. From under the bed was a growl. I flipped on the light. 

Ramen stared at me, teeth bared. Blood dripped down his hairy chin. He was covered in the stuff. I held the knife in front of me. What the hell was going on? I tried to keep my eyes on the dog and not the person he was eating in the bottom bunk. Adrenaline rushed through my blood. I couldn’t breath steady. “Everything’s going to be okay, Mikey.”

Ramen lunged at me off the bed. I closed my eyes and held the knife out. Mikey screamed again. I fell to the floor as Ramen landed on top of me. He whimpered as the knife I held sank into his heart. 

I laid there gasping, waiting for Ramen to stop twitching. Warm blood leaked from Ramen’s body down the knife and onto my hands. I could feel Ramen’s muzzle against my neck and tried to not think about the blood that was on his chin. Ramen let out a final breath. I pushed the dog off of me and sat up. I looked down at the knife that was sunk a few inches into Ramen’s chest. And I finally had the sense to cry.

I thought it was all a dream. And for a while, I kept thinking that I was stuck in some sort of nightmare. But, it was very much real. 

I should be dead right now. But, by a chance of luck, I am still alive, and so is Michael. Now that I look back on everything that has happened, I’m not sure if I should call it luck. Luck would have been dying. It would have been a lot less painful. No, what happened to me and Mikey that day, was not luck. It was a really terrible fate.

My name is Julie Swartz. The date is May 4^th, 2012. This is the day the whole world went to hell.

This is the first "chapter" of The Day The Dogs Went Wild. 

It is pretty rough and in need of lots of work, but I am hoping to turn it in to a novella or something of the sort. 

~Snowie