Monday's Writing Prompt and a Query

Welp, It's Tuesday. Needless to say, yesterdays post didn't get up there when it was supposed to, so let's get right down to it.

Weekly Writing Prompt

Imagine your character has gone his/her/it's entire life in a city or other such settlement, where the expansive aspects of nature (such as a forest, an actual open field, or long beach front removed from the world) hasn't touched their lives. Take them from their familiar settlement and bring them out into the forest. How does your character react? Is there a feeling of relief, anxiety, or perhaps repulsion? Do they regain the sense of wonder that they once had as children? Do you they become annoyed with the lack of amenities and the bugs?

What you do with your character is up to you, the exercise is meant to explore something that is truly unknown to your character but familiar to you. Take a second look at the familiar and see something you didn't before.

Query to My Readers

The idea of starting a continuous series of flash fiction peices is not a new one, in fact one that my close friend, Kit over at Goggles and Lace, specifically referring to her Letters from Blackford Hill series. After tossing around the idea with her, to make sure I wasn't stepping on her toes, I began thinking that part of my activity for Camp NaNo will be doing some vignettes from my current project which I'm temporarily reffering to as the Nightmare Realm. Would you be interested in seeing those character vignettes? If not, what do you want to see?

So post your comments below!

Namaste,
Jessi

Just a Quick Thank You and a Poem

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to my readers. You guys have made it a record setting month for blog traffic (even beating out the November with all my NaNo related posts!). I can't say 'Thank you' enough! I truly appreciate your readership and look forward to more feedback. Surprises are in store for June, so just hold on and stay tuned!

There will be a writing challenge up for the week in lieu of an Inkwell recap, given tomorrow is Memorial Day, and we're not meeting. With that in mind, below is a poem on the holiday. Take a second and read it over if you have the time.

Until later,
Jessi

For Our Troops
© 2007 Brooke O'Neill Emery

MEMORIAL DAY, 2007

FOR OUR TROOPS (both past and present, but particularly in Iraq and Afghanistan at present)

Though I don't know your name
And I have never seen your face
I shed tears for you.

Though my memories don't contain a time
We shared together
I miss you.

Though we are not related
You are in my thoughts.

When I'm eating, or taking a shower, or doing housework,
I think of you, knowing how much you wish you could be at home,
Your stomach full, doing mundane chores such as cleaning your house,
Clean from a fresh shower.

Though you are at terrible risk, and perhaps may not survive,
You are NEVER ALONE, and will always be alive
If only in our spirits, hopes and memories, our dreams for your future.

There are MILLIONS of people praying for you tonight
And throughout the day.

Praying for your safely and return as a whole person
In mind, body and spirit.

We are crying because we know. We know you are scared, and lonely.
And that you'd give anything to see your family, to hug you mother, father.
Your child, sister, brother, aunt, uncle.

To be showered with love and comfort,
Instead of sand and shrapnel.

We long for you too, with an ache so desperate as to make us insane.
To touch your face, see your smile; share your laughter and your tears.

We love you so much soldiers, you cannot know. You cannot fathom the swelling of pride in our chest as we think of you.
Of your courage and your sacrifice, the hope that you can come home soon.

And those that have returned, we have not forgotten you; you are in our prayers,
That you may recover from your experience and be healed.

No matter what anyone says, not matter the reason you are there,
You are a UNITED STATES SOLDIER, and you make us PROUD!!
Every day for that beautiful flag, for our great fortune to be Americans.

There are no politics, no scandals, no mistakes, NOTHING, which can diminish the sentiment we have for you.
And even as democracy permits free speech, as it should, which some may use to make judgments or cast aspersions,
Remember always, we know you'd rather be on the couch debating it with us than spending your days trying just to stay alive.

Let no "freedom of speech' EVER make you doubt the American people's faith in and love for you.
We are PROUD!

I've never met you, but I want you to know that I love you.
I'm praying for you.
I honor you.
I'm waiting for your return.

On this Memorial Day, 2007, and every day,
Please know that you are being though of.
WE MISS YOU.
GOD BLESS YOU and keep you until the day we can celebrate face to face.

A Crow Came and Sat at My Window: Writing Challenge from Goggles and Lace

I sat quietly starring out my window, the morning sun just peeking out over the trees across the street. I sighed and picked up my coffee, hoping today would be easier. I cracked my neck and looked towards the computer screen, watching the emails filter into my inbox. A flutter of wings and my attention is drawn back to a more traditional window. A large, black crow sat placidly on the window sill, seeming to watch me as I watched him. I'd always heard that crows were hyper intelligent, and this one seemed to be observing some form of lesser species out of curiosity. I gripped my coffee cup as I stood slowly, walking towards the window. The bird didn't move.

“Hello.” I said softly and watched the birds movements. He was calm, merely shaking out his wings before tucking them back at his sides. I stopped at the coffee table and picked up a couple of nuts, walking forward just a couple more steps. The bird watched, turning it's head to the side and looked at my hand. I placed the nuts down further on the window sill and backed up, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table. The bird hopped over to the nuts and inspected them, picking one up with it's beak to eat it.

“Hello Madam” I swore I had simply lost my mind, and now I felt myself staring at the shiny black beast, jaw slack. “Please it's rude to stare”

“I'm... I'm sorry.” I said and closed my mouth. I picked up my mug and took a sip while the bird finished the nuts, and hopped over to the edge, staring at me.

“Where to begin...” The bird mused, A voice scratchier and higher pitched than I would have ever imagined from such an elegant looking bird.

“At the beginning I would imagine” I said, still disbelieving of the fact that I was having a conversation with a crow.

“What about the end?”

“Why would you begin at the end?” The bird seemed to chuckle and look out the window, before looking back to me.

“Wouldn't you like to know...” The bird's eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief as I leaned forward, hoping it would end well. I've always liked a happy ending...

A Message on Camp NaNoWriMo from the Desk of Chris Baty

Dear Writer,

Every ten years or so, NaNoWriMo tackles something so ambitious that we need the entire NaNo community to help us pull it off. It's time to go big! Here's what we're proposing:

Project #1: We finalize all coding on Camp NaNoWriMo, a light and zesty summer version of November's literary adventure.

Project #2: We completely rebuild the guts of the NaNoWriMo website by October 1. The new infrastructure will allow us to be speedier and more user-friendly.

To make both of these projects a reality, we are asking you to donate today in our world-famous Summer Fundraising Drive. Which we've relocated to May, and rechristened the NaNoWriMo Camp and Guts Drive.

We have a bounty of limited-edition thank-you gifts that will only be available for this drive. Last year, our special Summer Fundraising Drive gifts were completely gone within a week. This year's goodies include a lifetime Founding Donor listing on the Camp NaNoWriMo website (for just $10!), a Founding Camper badge for your NaNoWriMo profile, a "NaNoWriMo Takes Guts" bumper sticker, and a wonderful Camp NaNoWriMo mini-poster.

Plus, everyone who donates to NaNoWriMo in 2011, in this drive or otherwise, will get a special helping of donor-only bonus pep, including ramp-up pep talks from published NaNoWriMo authors in October and weekly pep talk emails from me in November.

If you've never donated to NaNoWriMo before, please let this be the first time you try it out. It feels so good! If you donate every year in the fall, we can't thank you enough! We would be so grateful if you'd consider making your donation a little early so we can put your contribution towards these two essential projects.

Thank you so much for supporting our grassroots creative revolution. Your donation will ensure that hundreds of thousands of people get a life-changing wallop of literary encouragement in 2011.

With an overflowing mug of gratitude,

Chris
Executive Director
The Office of Letters and Light

PS: To help spread the word about the drive, you can put the https://store.lettersandlight.org URL in your Facebook status, and the Facebook elves will magically generate a wee Camp NaNoWriMo logo and a message letting the world know you gave NaNoWriMo the guts we need to succeed. We also have great Twitter badges (and more Facebook fun) in the NaNo Breaking News.

When Magick Leaks into WalMart

It's Wednesday night at the local Walmart, where a skeleton crew is closing up shop for the night. The night crew is settling into their assigned activities communicating through vocal shorthand across the store.

“Steve, go grab six boxes of medium bags,load 'em onto the ladder-cart and start putting them out. Harley, grab register tape, clean up mats and all that. I'm going to close down the desk. Let's get this done early so we can go home at a reasonable hour.” The front end manager is a tall girl, in the stereotypical navy blue button down, and khakis; lanyard laden with 'flair' hung around her neck, and a long chocolate colored ponytail. She pushed her bangs to the side and watched for a moment while the closing cashiers started their routines, before heading to the desk.

The night had gone smoothly thus far, and no one anticipated any other end to the closed store. The unloading crew went to it's last break of the night leaving the backroom empty. Steve ambled into the back, his large 6'2”, heavyset frame taking up most of the room between pallets and their respective jacks. He whistled some sort of tune to himself, though unrecognizable to most. He hefted the boxes onto a steel cart one by one, dutifully going about his work. Something metal clanged onto the floor from what seemed to be behind the bins of freight. Steve looked over his shoulder to the noises' origin, turning back after a second of shaking his head. He picked up another box and dropped it almost instantly. The young man fell forward onto the pallet of cardboard boxes, a spiked war axe buried in the back of his skull and neck.

“Ya think it was an ogre?” A harsh voice sounded from behind a shrink-wrapped pallet.

“Aye, did'ja get a look at'im?” a deeper voice resounded and the short man moved forward. He was dressed in furs, plate mail and a long red beard. His light blue eyes were set back behind bushy eyebrows. They were evaluating the corpse as he was joined by four of his companions. One with black hair grunted and nodded, dislodging the axe with a sickening 'thwock'. He let out some sort of chortle and gestured with the blood stained axe.

"Aye, he's ugly even by ogre standards...." The black haired one growled as they stood over the dead body. The blond boy never stood a chance...

“Where the hell is Steve?” The front end manager sighed and looked over to Harley. The girl shrugged and tossed a couple rolls of receipt tape in the air juggling them deftly on the way back to the podium. Jessica rolled her eyes at the performer and pulled off her lanyard, rolling up her sleeves. “I'll be back, with bags. The one night I want to get out early...” She grumbled and walked towards the back, stopping abruptly midway. “What the fuck?” She gasped, looking at the group of men, all clad like they were going to King Richards Fair approaching. Several of them had weaponry drawn. Jessica’s brow furrowed and she let out a soft snort as she was sure her eyes were deceiving her.

“Excuse me, but the store is closed...” She managed and stepped backwards.

“Store?” The red bearded one raised a brow and looked around.

“Yes... where you buy things. You're going to have to leave.” She said, her voice starting to waver as she realized the weapons weren't props.

“WAIT!” A tall blond haired fellow with long ears came racing out of the backroom, towards the group of dwarves. He caught up to them in a few short strides and looked over them, glad they were all accounted for. “We have to get back. That was a portal, and it's going to close in a few minutes. Please hurry before our wizards exhaust their strength. Has anyone seen you?” The elf realized too late that the woman in front of them seemed to be frozen in place. “Besides her, we can take her back with us. Anyone else?”

“Just the mutated ogre in the storage area.” The black haired on said and grinned, satisfied with the days kill.

“Steve? He's not an ogre...” Jess managed and suddenly felt bad about not getting the boxes of bags herself.

“Good. Grab her. Let's go.” The elf commanded and one of the dwarves picked the front end manager up, draping her over his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down, you short little sons of bitches!”

“Ha! She doesn't e'en know ya mum and the lass knows she a dog.” The other dwarf laughed as they all took off towards the backroom. Jessica's screams were soon silenced as one of the dwarves heavy boots connected with the back of her head. The silence and blackness that followed were a welcome environment...

Inkwell Imaginings Webinar: 7 Deadly Sins and Character Motivation

(I know, a day late, a dollar short and all that. Apologies from the bottom of my heart.)



This was form a special topic night at Inkwell Imaginings on the 7 Deadly Sins and character motivation. Below is the website the main source material came from as well as the writing exercise. Also below that is the list of examples that Inkwell came up with to aid in the writing exercise.

Enjoy!

http://errantdreams.com/pages/seven_sins

Group Writing Exercise: taking one cue from each of the categories of the Seven Deadly Sins, make up a scene using all of them as motivators for the character of your choosing.


Inkwell Example
Hipster: Geoff
Age: 19 (freshman in college)
Blond with Blue eyes
Serial Killer - Wrath
Jilted lover (Jillian) - Lust
Refuses to deal with the past rejection - Sloth
Love becomes his obsession - Gluttony
Kills those that resemble Jillian (can’t let anyone else have her) – Greed
Envious of those around him possessing love - Envy
Hipster – Pride

Take this example and do a ten minute writing exercise. Post your results below in the comments or link us to them.

Lust
sociopath
physical attraction
Jeffrey Dahmer
marriage
rape
stalking

Wrath
anger over minor situations
revenge driven
Westboro Baptist Church
protests
murder
war/religion

Sloth
refuses to deal with past
paying others to do things for you
Paris Hilton
Diplomacy instead of violence
poor health
failing school/dropout

Gluttony
power hungry
need for knowledge
Hannibal Lector
survival hoarding
obsession
garfield

Greed
mercenary
materialistic
Donald Trump
Leeman brothers
stealing “bread for family”
selling your soul

Pride
wanting to fix it all for GLORY
arrogance
Charlie Sheen
confidence
all talk/no play
hipster

Envy
fountain of youth
Elizabeth Bathroy
inspiration/motivation
jealousy
desire for another's wife/husband
grass is greener

Mirror, Mirror,

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall
Tell me the beautiful lie
Tell me the truest of the all the evils
Show me what I need to see
Show me why I need to see it.

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall
Am I the evil queen?
Old and ugly,
a beautiful mask with a cold heart
seeks only to rule?

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall
Am I the helpless princess?
Young and naive,
pretty with a good soul
but weak without the support of her men?

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall
I don't want to be the fairest of them all
Show me for who I am
Show me what I am
Because what and who are two different questions

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall
Tell me a beautiful lie
Tell me that harshest of all truths
Reveal to me
What I don't want to see.

The Matter of Baldness and Illegal Magicks...

The sun beat down of Alleige's capital, Kenishka. The temperatures had risen well into the upper 90's prompting most to either cover themselves completely or start the stripping process. While none of this was terribly remarkable, there was a commotion going on in the marketplace, surrounding one man, pushing his way through the crowd, in some haste. He looked most unremarkable. A dark brown robe, pulled tightly around him, a hand obscuring his face as he held his hood in place. He stopped in front of a plain brown, worn door, somewhere in the middle of the street. A couple of seconds worth of examining left him with the distinct impression he was here. Wherever here was. He grasped the door knob and jumped backwards, into the street.

“Watch out!” He screamed as he fell, knocking over a woman with a fruit basket. The orange fruit flew up into the air and several landed on the man as he got up, tossing a few coins onto the ground at the woman. He grabbed his hood, throwing it back up around his head. The door opened slightly and the man rushed inside.

Stepping into the shop was something like stepping into another world. Du-dads and thing-a-ma-bobs hung from every conceivable point of the ceiling. Small jars with unrecognizable herbs and dried animal parts lined the walls. The shop itself smelled of sandalwood and citrus, leaving an inviting fragrance hanging in the air, despite the appearance. The man looked around, poking what appeared to be a vial with rat eyes in it. The via swung back and forth gently as an older gentleman with piercing blue eyes came out from behind a tapestry.

“What can I do for you today, sir?” The smile the blue eyed man wore was more of mockery than a genuine interest in the customer. His eyes scanned the man and shook his head.

“Yes I as looking for something to help with... well... my hair.” The customer pulled his hood down to reveal his hairline.

“What hair?” The wizard couldn't help but let the mocking smile widen as he examined the man. His hairline had retreated to the back of his head, leaving a shiny, sunburned scalp.

“Yes.” The customer frowned and looked about the shop. “There in would be the issue. Can you help me?”

“Of course. The question is, whether or not you can afford it.”

“Money isn't an issue.”

“It never is, is it? You have no idea how many high powered officials come through here looking for cures, when three days before I was under threat of being shut down for unlawful magical practices. Isn't that right, Magistrate DiZara?” It was hard for the wizard to take the little man with the baldness issue seriously, and now his blood was boiling, after realizing who the man was.

“I've revoked the paperwork, what more do you want me to do Malakai?” Magistrate DiZara frowned. He always did find it ironic when he went seeking out these back alley wizards to fix his personal issues. His job was to keep the Order, well in order, bringing the illegally operating wizards to the courts to answer for their missteps.

“Don't make up false accusations to shut down a business started with the Order's approval.” He snarled, blue sparks emanating from the wizards hands. The Magistrate, backed up two steps, nearing the door, breath quickened. Malakai laughed heartily, satisfied in seeing the little mans fear.

“That will do.” He grinned and steeped behind a bench, holding out his now sparkless hand to the Magistrate. “I'll need a sample of your hair.”

“Right...” DiZara gulped and stepped cautiously towards the wizard. Malakai pulled a straight razor from the bench and in one quick flourish cut a piece from the side of DiZara's head. He took the hairs and placed them in the bottom of a glass beaker, going about the shop, pulling ingredients off the walls and from closets that DiZara hadn't even noticed before. Doors from nowhere, leading to an empty whole seemingly erected from the fabric of space and time itself, appeared and disappeared at the casters' will. An armful of vials and jars later, he began measuring and gestured for DiZara to wander off for now. The magistrate frowned and nodded, scrunching up his already wrinkled and stress-ridden face. His hair was the only thing he wanted. That was it. It wasn't too much to ask as it? He sat down on a chair made from animal skins, of unknown origin.

“You know, I don't understand you people and your vanity.” The wizard scoffed from behind the work bench.

“You wouldn't. You're beautiful. Leave it to us that -have- to worry about our looks to do so, please.” DiZara scoffed.

“You don't think that there are other things you should be concerned about?”

“Don't think that just because I'm vain...”

“Well you are here in the middle of the work day, Magistrate.” The magistrate sat silent as the accusation hung in the air. Malakai continued. “Besides ignorance, vanity is one of the biggest downfalls of society, don't you agree? Ah, but you suffer from both. Why would you be able to see that?” His rambling had become nothing more than rumblings in the background for DiZara. He dozed, letting a small snore escape before snapping himself back awake. Malakai frowned and added the final couple of ingredients to the potion.

“Here.” Malakai thrust the bottle into the Magistrate's sleepy hands. “100 gold.”

“Fine...” DiZara pulled out a small coin purse and handed it to Malakai. He weighed it and nodded, opening it up to see the glittering pieces.

“What do I do with it?”

“Drink it. If you want to sustain it's effects, you'll have to come back every moon cycle to get another dosage. Otherwise people may start to wonder. Also the effects are gradual. You won't have a full head of hair tomorrow. Mostly to avoid suspicion. You wouldn't want people thinking that you were using body modifying spells and potions, now then would you?” Malakai's eyes narrowed at DiZara, the blue slits practically damning the little man for his actions. DiZara frowned and nodded, fingering the bottle's lip nervously. He tilted it back against his lips, and pour the liquid down his throat, pulling the bottle back in disgust. It tasted awful, but then again he wasn't looking for some refreshing beverage from the wizards shop. He scratched his head frowning.

“Good day Magistrate.” The wizard said, opening the door back out onto the busy market. The magistrate pulled his hood back up and disappeared into the crowd.

Camp NaNoWriMo and Some Other NaNo Info

I know, I know. Thursday isn't on the normal update schedule. But this bears the extra post for the week.

The Offices of Letters and Light has decided to run a summer program for NaNoWrimo! It's called Camp NaNo and for those of you that are usually swamped with finals and the like during November, this is perfect for. Also perfect for those that aim for two novels a year! Well really, it's perfect for anyone with a mild writing obsession. And it's more excuse for me to send out emails encouraging you all to keep on writing!

Camp NaNoWriMo from the Desk of the OLL

Greetings, Wrimos!

If you're holding hot coffee, I'd recommend you put it down. If you're standing, please sit.

I have potentially explosive news: we're launching Camp NaNoWriMo this summer! As in, mere months from this very moment!

Some of you may be wondering, "What is this camp you speak of? Will there be mosquitoes?"

This camp-themed version of National Novel Writing Month enables participants to write a novel in a month other than November. You bring the words and we'll meet you there with the encouragement, tracking tools, and a tent!

For everyone who has ever wanted to do NaNo multiple times a year—or for those who simply can't make a November novel work—welcome to Camp NaNoWriMo! The plot bunnies will frolic, the sun will warm your half-baked plot, and yes... there will probably be mosquitoes.

To pay for all these building materials, we're holding a summer fundraising drive starting May 25. More awesome goodies at more levels than ever before! (Two words: bumper sticker. For the first time in NaNo history!)

Stay tuned for more camp news and details about the upcoming fundraiser. In the meantime, I've still got some canoes to hollow out.

The fundraiser is a pretty big here. Once again even if you participate in Camp, YOU DO NOT have to donate. I know how poor we all are and I won't tell you that you have to, ever. If you feel the need to do so, have at it. That being said, as soon as I know more about Camp NaNo I'll be posting it here, and organizing little writing exercises and games to run through the program so keep a heads up on that. What kind of ML would I be without helping orchestrate the madness?

Offers still valid from NaNo 2010

Did you win NaNoWriMo? Congrats! you have some offers that are still valid if you did, so go on over to NaNo Winners and check it out. You have until June 30th to collect your CreateSpace proof copy of your NaNo masterpiece. Also available is a 50% off deal on Scrivner, which helps with planning, note keeping, and generally awesome organizational software. It's not only for Mac users anymore! There is an open beta test for Windows, so check it out, before you dive in and buy it. You will have to be logged in with your winning ID to collect the codes, so keep that in mind when licking the link.

First Writing Challenge

Camp NaNo hasn't started yet, but this be your first official 'task' for the summer writing season. C'mon! Play along. If you have a blog, post your link to your entry in the comments section and I'll happily link you, advertising on my social media for every entry. So without further ado...

This particular writing exercise is from Writing Excuses, a great blog I follow on a weekly basis. They have great prompts and podcasts to keep the creative juices flowing.

Writing Prompt: Start with a highly magical, pseudo-medieval fantasy setting. Now… how do you deal with baldness?

Enjoy, and keep checking back for NaNoWriMo news as the details are revealed!

Namaste,
Jessi

The Lament of the Soldier to his Rag Doll

The poor child. She sits in the tower, overlooking the palace of the Nightmare Realms finest, simply placed to watch and hide behind the lines until someone needs comfort. Her smile is so beautiful and yet she doesn't know. Her skin bears the scars of wars from past. Her eyes, now two different colors, glisten with tears, holding in the truths that so many have confessed, holding her close to them. I approach and I fell almost bad as I hold her and whisper softly the troubles of the kingdom into her ear. She smiles softly, understanding more than she lets on. Her job is not to offer advice however, simply to listen and offer a warm body to comfort me.

“I'm sorry.” I said and held her by her waist, holding her close. Her delicate fingers traced a heart along my arm. I smiled but tears flooded my own eyes. I had been sent to her because of her stress relieving effects, but somehow all I could do was cry. I glanced at her in the moonlight streaming in the window. The poor girl. Bound together bits of the greatest councilors of the realm. Black, white and tan pieces, sewn together in such a beautiful arrangement, none could help but stare as she stood in front of them, the allure and mystery too great to ignore.

“I killed my first creature today. He looked into my eyes while I did.” She turned in my arms, holding my face so gently I almost couldn't feel her. Her thumb wiped the tears from my face. I wanted to look up, but had been warned against looking into her eyes. I kept my eyes cast down, hoping she would turn away. My heart beat in my ears, feeling her calico gaze burn into my features.

“Please.” Her trance broke and she looked down, tracing her fingers over a wound in my chest. I continued. “He looked as if I had taken everything. I imagine that's what any victim looks like. But … it wasn't his life he was concerned for. I could tell what else it could be. I don't know...” Her fingers intertwined with mine, and she led me to the pool of water in an ivory basin. What I saw in it's depths I can't recall. I looked up and she met my gaze, holding my face for a moment. Her eyes... blue and green... the green had gold around the pupil. I shook my head and pulled away. Her gaze had returned to the floor , hand extended to mine.

“You're scared because the life you took reminded you of yours that ended too soon. Be calm. He has returned home. You will never be that lucky Knight. But you will find happiness and the war will bring that.” She spoke softly but her words resonated through me. I sat on the bench, leaning my head back against the cool marble wall. She sat down next to me and trailed a finger along my jawline, pulling my gaze to her. She looked at me and smiled softly, adverting her eyes after a short moment. Despite the warnings, all I wanted was to stare into those eyes, and see what they held behind them. She stood and took my hand, lacing our fingers together, pulling me up.

“You'll be ok.”

“You sound so sure”

“Well. You live as many lifetimes and see what you become sure of. I've seen many like you. You're stronger at heart than some of them, and they all made it.” There was a slight tone of amusement to her voice as she said it, causing a slight upturn at the corners of my own mouth.

“Yeah.”

“Good day Knight” She bowed gently and held the door open for me. I wanted to tell her everything, but I couldn't seem to find the words. So instead I offered a sincere bow and nodded.

“Good day Milady.” The door closed only a soft click heard. My salvation would wait for her next client.

A Time for Silence

Why is that through all the social networking, all we can think about is relationships?
Sometime, just sometime, I'd love to see someone proclaim
“I broke up and I'm OK with being single!”
But wait, that too is about relationships
My social chatter is mostly noise confused and garbled
trying to push past the inanity of life
while failing miserably in my humble attempts
I 'like' peoples statuses and leave snarky remarks
I see people that I know will never, ever be good together
go through the ups and downs
and they expect me to go along for the ride.
This coaster only has room for two,
And
I'm not you so please step inside with your significant other
There are times when I cry for you
There are times when I laugh at your mistakes
I say “I've told you it'd never work”
and you threaten to strangle me every time
The truth is
I'm tired of seeing you all hurt
I'm tired of picking up pieces
the pieces with which you'll make the same mistakes
again
and again
and again.
I'm tired of being right
I'm tired of being wrong with my personal life
I'm just... tired
I want to be happy.
I want you to be happy to.
But for once, can't we just be happy
by ourselves?
No.
Because then we'd have no need for facespace and all the rest
We need others.
And we need to be wrong.
But I'm sorry I'm not 'like'-ing that new relationship status.
Call me callous, call me cruel
but when I pick up the pieces again
I'll try really hard not to say
“I told you so”

Happy Anniversary!

Today is May 15th and that means that A Ba in BS is two years old! *throws a handful of confetti* Yay!

I wanted to take a moment and thank you all for making this last year amazing. All the reads and all the feedback has been wonderful, and I'm looking forward to another year of the same, if not better.

Better you say?

Indeed. I actually have a plan for a posting schedule! I know, shocking right? The schedule is as follows:

Monday Night after Inkwell: Recap of Inkwell including any seminar notes with potential for a video on the information. Included in this will be a weekly quote/song with a challenge to go along. This should get your creative juices flowing, or at least get your muse off her butt.

Wednesday: Flash Fiction Night! I will be posting a new piece of fiction every Wednesday in an effort to get my muse up and running on a more regular schedule. She needs the work out anyway.

Friday:Special Topic Night! This will be for any writing challenges I have accepted over the week, including those from Goggles and Lace. She does some fantastic writing challenges, and you should do them as well. You can post them either here in the comment section on Fridays or link them to her directly over on her blog.

Phew. This is going to be fun.

In addition to all the scheduling changes and what not, I'll be slowly cleaning up the blog, changing the layout, editing my work a bit more closely and in general taking care of some cobwebs around the place. I haven't gone back through the entirety of it in a while and it's definitely time. I'll be working on getting different sections set up from rants, fiction works, challenges, and a separate section for each of the miniseries as they continue on. We'll see how this goes.

Namaste,
Jessi

The Writers Toolbox: Journaling Rediscovered

A while back, I spoke to the importance of journaling. It's good to keep track of current thoughts, character sheets, etc ad nauseam. Then a funny thing happened tonight. I was cleaning out a box of books, looking for a project folder I'd kept from college and there, staring me in the face was my "little black book". It didn't contain the phone numbers of countless boys/girl/whatever from college but rather something much more valuable (albeit a little odd).

Contained within the pages of this book are descriptions of everyone I knew in 2007. All of my close friends, and those that I cared for most. I had songs, keywords, physical descriptions and even doodles that reminded me of them. These weren't characters I created but a snapshot in time for the people I cared for most. There were some reminders of a friends tragic fall from a beautiful relationship, that jogged memories of the following months, trying to make sure the silent warrior was ok. The description sounds cliche, but Jared was just that.

There were also some descriptions that i look back on and have to laugh. I was so far off from who they would turn out to be. Sel for example. He's done almost a 180, aside from a few physical characteristics and some inner rage.

The amazing thing however is how all of these descriptions jogged a metric shit ton of memories of exactly how everyone was and reminded me how four years can change everything. So think about it. What do you want to remember four years from now? Perhaps journaling isn't so bad after all.

Project Idea: Go outside, sit down and describe your surroundings, taking note of current weather conditions. Is today, normal, or abnormal for the season? What is everyone like today? Jotting down these notes will help add a sense of realism to your project.

The Fragrance of Dark Coffee

I sat quietly in the cafe, listening to the patter of raindrops against the glass. I'd been starring at my laptop screen for the better part of an hour, hoping, simply hoping that today would be the day that I broke the non-writing streak. Today would be the day to end my writers block. No such luck. The barista had already come over to refill my coffee mug with a slight smile. I just kept starring offering a soft 'thank you' of recognition. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, looking across the way at the fireplace. Maybe a change of seating... I gathered my things, unplugged my laptop and took a seat in one of the over sized arm chairs in front of the hearth. I sighed again. More comfortable certainly, but coupled with the jazz playing in the background, all I could think of was home. As fondly as I thought of the the warmth that once existed there, it didn't help me write one sentence. There was a small bit of shifting in the arm chair next to me, so I looked over and offered a smile to the stranger. I looked back to the computer screen and shook my head. The coffee was growing cold., not that I had taken so much as a sip, since she refilled it.

“What brings you here?” The voice was soothing, like the jazz, a perfect addition to the afternoon.

“My muse needed a change of scenery, I offer and smirk a little realizing that I sounded a bit like a crazy person. “Sorry.” I chuckled and felt the blush as it rose to my cheeks.

“Why apologize for the truth?” I could feel his eyes on me as he spoke. I turned to meet them and almost froze in place. They were beautiful. Blue with the lightest flecks of green intermixed. I immediately felt self conscious, but not for my clothes or appearance, but for my facade as it melted away with the rain. I couldn't manage to keep up the snarky, writer like attitude, I'd held up for this long. Those eyes begged for honesty.

“Because, the truth isn't what most want to hear. Just a neat fabrication, all wrapped up neatly and presented to them with a big bow.” I held out my hands in a mocking present giving gesture. He smiled and nodded, looking back to the fire. I examined him for a moment longer. Auburn colored hair, a little scruffy with a plaid shirt. I smiled to myself and looked back to my blank screen.

“What's your name?” He asked, gaze unchanged, fixated on the flames as they moved across the logs.

“Samantha.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Samantha. My name's Geoff.” He raised his coffee mug in a small salute and took a small amount into his mouth. I don't know why, but I seemed to pay close attention to his movements. I too picked up my mug and took a sip. The conversation seemed to die off, but I began to write. I wrote for nearly an hour when Geoff stood, putting a guitar case over his shoulder. I looked up from my writing to see his hand extended to me, a small scrap of paper within it.

“Here. Should you want to chat sometime.” I took the piece of paper and smiled; offering my hand to shake his. Instead, he kissed my hand and bowed, before leaving out into the rainy day. I couldn't help but smile a little. His scent had been dark, but I couldn't place it. I simply smiled and picked up my coffee mug again, taking in the fragrance of the coffee. I starred off into the depths of the fire, relaxed.

“Geoff...” I read softly and put the scrap in my pocket.

Sex, sex, sex, oh yeah and some real life events... in a City

I love to hate Sex and the City. The television show. You know the one with the overly perfect group of four friends, struggling through their late 20's into their mid-40's that have too much sex? Yeah that's the one. I think it's bad for women. Not in the 'everyone should strive not to have as much sex as they do' kinda way. You want to have that much sex? Go for it. I'm not even going to go into the fact that there are so many inconsistencies in the show that don't ever add up, that the show might as well have been a horny teenage virgins dream about what her and her friends would be like, if they owned a good bra and great shoes. Because shoes fix everything, don't you know.

I hate Sex and the City and all the shows like it because they're spot on in places and it infuriates me. I'm a fairly strong woman, with a decent amount going for her. So why am I single? Oh right. Because I'm a neurotic mess compiled with a slew of walking contradictions. Where the hell are my Jimmy Choos?

Of course all of this was brought up by the fact that I was being a stereotypical 20-something woman, sitting on the couch, talking to an ex about what went wrong, and halfheartedly watching a rerun of, you guessed it, Sex and the City. All I needed was my Northface jacket and a yogurt.

So there I was, at midnight on a friday night, house bound, mostly because of allergies; admittedly, watching a show entirely aimed at people like me. Just like a shot to my heart the nightly question Carrie asks herself is raised. “Soulmates: Reality or Torture Device?” So I bring it up to my ex. He says reality. Of course he does. I had to roll my eyes. It wasn't that I didn't think his answer was genuine, simply that for me, the idea of running across the one person I would spend the rest of my life with is an absurd concept. I've already come across two men I could have married. One of them even had a good job. Maybe I'd have my Jimmy's if I'd stayed... (I jest, of course). And then the thought occurred to me, I'm just not ready. Not an unusual thought of late, simply one that happened to meander through my brain at the wrong time. Hell I don't know if I'll ever be ready, I convince myself. I mean just reently I learned that I could legitimately be attracted to someone again. Sparks and all! Well no fireworks yet, or maybe ever. I really don't care. Is it odd though, that even as unready as I am, I still want to be able to come home to someone?

Once more my life seems to brush up on the edge of cliché and passe. I'm sitting in my pajama shorts, wrapped up in a blanket, typing this all away, with a distinct inner monologue playing, guiding my fingers to the right keys. Ultimately, my life is my own. Cliché or not. But man is being single getting old fast. I don't want Mr. Right-Now anymore. Then again I'm not ready for Mr. Right. Or who knows. Maybe I am and he just hasn't shown up with a white horse in shining armor yet. Maybe if I hold up a sign... Nah. I'd be allergic to the horse anyway.

At the heart of the show, Sex and the City is a feel good mostly romcom that tries to emulate real life as little as possible while still making a passable facade. The women are stereotypical and for the most part, fairly 2D. Doesn't mean I don't love them any more or less. The thing I love about the show? Knowing that if the ever crazy women of tat show can find love... maybe it's not a lost cause. But until that knight of mine shows up, I'm going to keep wandering in no-mans land blindfolded. I really hope they deactivated most of the mines.

Dear 16 year old me.

Dear 16 yr old me,
Hey. How's 11th grade treating you? Awful I know. Still thought I'd ask. You haven't graduated from high school and college is still two years out. Grandma has just passed on. Princess will die soon, so give her a hug for me, please. But it gets better! That's the good news. The other bit of good news? You're going to be amazing. And I say that with a bit of perspective. You're 25 now, realizing that you're old, and looking at your little sister who just turned 18. She survived so far! It's practically cause of celebration. No death via sodium intake.

So here's the deal. High school wasn't easy and college doesn't get any easier. As a matter of fact, it just gets harder. You're going to have one of the hardest years of your life. And I truly mean that. I could show you the scars, but you need to experience them to grow. Out of freshman year, you realize that you're strong enough to live through the depression. You start to see that that quirky guy you met in Japanese civ, is going to save your life. Better yet? He's going to become one of your best friends. No really. We're still friends. Even after you kiss him and realize it's a little weird. Don't forget to compliment him on his skills. It's only polite.

Kit is still our best friend. She's gone to FL now, and it broke our heart. But she had to go, sadly. Soon enough she'll be home though. When? I don't know. But she will be home. She's been friends with us for 13 years now. Crazy huh?

You have friends that love you. You have guys that are amazed by you. They think you're beautiful, something we never thought would happen, right? Mostly for some uh, more physical reasons but that's neither here nor there. By the time you get here, you'll have experienced, love, loss, tragedy and joy that no one can ever take from you. You'll have been engaged, and so close to being married. And then you'll make the decision to end it. Because in the end, you're not the one for him. And trust me, there's more than the initial reasons.

These people change everything about you. They challenge you, they make you stronger, and you love them more for it. They're going to make you angry beyond belief, and push you until you think you're going to break. And they show you in the end, who you really are.

You start an amazing writing group with your best friend. And the support system that you create there for others is invaluable. Not only are you helping keep the creative spirit alive and well in the community, but you're writing. Just like Gram. Ok maybe gram didn't write about mutants, fate, death and coffee.

So life will get harder. But you have to know that even when you're sitting on the floor of your dorm thinking it's the end, you will get better. Honestly. And even though I know you'll never see this, I know someone who knows a 16 year old, soon to be 16yr old, or once was 16 will. Depression is a very real thing and needs to be addressed head on. So please always remember to be kind, hug often and laugh even more than you think your sides can take. Have one drink too many once in a while and lay in your best friends lap, listening to a good conversation. And just remember. You're going to be amazing.

Love,
Me.

On love, infatuation, and lust

It's funny that the longer I'm single or even just dating, the more I tend to wax poetic about love, lust and the feelings of twitter-pation (no it's not a word, but yes I'm using it anyway). Recently I ran into someone that made my heart skip. I can't tell you how long it's been since that happened. This realization that I'm still alive in the romantic sense, kind of made me happier than anything else in the world could have. And then there's the crushing reality of the potential relationship. There's the fear. There's the anxiety. There's the potential to be hurt. Again. Most of all it's probably best summarized in this quote by Neil Gaiman.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."
— Neil Gaiman (The Kindly Ones)

I don't hate it. I just severely dislike it's unpleasant effects on my thought process. Like many, I tend towards stupidity in that I can't stop thinking about the other person I'm with. I don't even have to be with them constantly for it to happen. Heck the more I'm apart, I wonder what they're doing, hoping that they're having the best day possible, but knowing that something minor has gone wrong somewhere. I can't help but smile thinking I'll hear about it and try to fix it.

But gods be damned, when they let go, or you let go, and things begin to slip through the cracks... love is one of the most painful experiences. My heart breaks when I heard those words, or I had to say them.I cried for days when I realized I couldn't stop the inevitable. There's something about being faced with an oncoming train that makes me crumble in front of it.

So here I sit, after midnight, typing away at the things that have earned my ire. Are the relationships worth it? Yes. All the pain in the world is worth hearing someone sigh genuinely, and say "I love you". And for that... I'll eternally be a fool.

Namaste,
Jessi