Willow by Julia Hoban

It took me about a day and a half to read all 342 pages, and I came away from the experience with an overall pleasant feeling of hope and comfort. Still I would not say that this book is one that you simply "cannot-put-down", though I thoroughly admit to picking it back up again when I got the chance.

Not to give away anything that isn't said on the back of this book, Willow is a 17 year old girl that survived a car accident that slaughtered her parents (she was the one driving), and came away with what would seem to be a bad case of PTSD. To deal with it all, she becomes a cutter, and this story highlights her journey out of the dark recessed of guilt and pain and her gradual recovery from chapters one to sixteen. I should warn you, some of the scenes in the book are graphic. And while she does not recover completely in the course of the story, but she does make significant progress, and it is a quite heartening read. (If you don’t know what a cutter is you can get more information at this Wikipedia entry on self-injury)

As a story that is aimed directly at the teen market, it must be said that it is very well written, and overall a very (and I don't say this lightly) good book. It is a character driven story and all of the characterization done is realistic. The characters, from Willow herself to even the most minor of characters is round, and the changes that happen to the dynamic characters are realistic.

There is a love story within the pages, but I would not say that it is the main focus of the book. It speaks to cutting, pain, family bonds, teenager hood. It is an emotional story of loss and pain and growth and healing.

Back from the dead, well, sort of...

And well sort of is right. I still quite haven't gotten this "keep up the blog" thing down. But I'll get it eventually. (Right?)

In other news, I'm helping to create a permanent writing club at my high school, of which is a neat idea but I'm still not sure how I'm, sorry, we're going to pull it off.

In addition to this I have also started looking at colleges. So far the only colleges that have really caught my attention would be Reed, Carthage, and University of Illinois Champaign-Urbana. Northwestern is also pretty interesting, though not on the top of my list. I don't really want to go to a state school, but I will if I have to.

I've also been reading a few books. I shall review them later.

As for writing, sadly, it has gone on the side for the time being. But school will soon be out and I will soon be type-type-typing away at my keyboard (of which the b key is being increasingly stubborn).

Oh well. See you next time.

Light

At 4:38 am, the cellphone's alarm started buzzing uncontrollably, causing the phone to fall off the nightstand and onto the bed. Don groaned, rolled over, groped around for the noise, and turned it off. He turned to roll back into the warm concave his body left under the blanket and stopped.

In five minutes, he jumped out of bed, threw on a t-shirt and jeans, took his meds, and brushed his teeth. He leaped down the stairs, not caring if the thump at the landing woke his parents. They'd be happy for him anyways.

It had been three weeks since Don had seen the sun. It didn't rise until after he was at school, and by the time he left campus, it had usually already set. It had been cloudy far too long for his liking.

He grabbed cereal, mashed it together, shoveled it down his throat as if rushing would help the sun rise faster.

He looked outside. It was still the cold, tinted blue of night, but the snow was gone. The days were getting longer, and warmer.

The coats hung in the hall closet, and he went to fetch one before heading to the back door and stepping out onto the worn wooden deck. He looked at his watch. Three minutes 'til sunrise. He sat down on a recliner and faced east, watching as the sun gradually grew lighter.

The first sliver of sunlight rotated over the horizon, sending out spools of coor that blinded him. The sun rose bit by bit, until it separated from the horizon. It hung low in the sky, steadily climbing still, bathing the boy in it's warm rays. He took off his coat, allowing cold to touch his bare arms, as well as the sun. It was worth it.

He leaned back, and fell back asleep, feeling better than he had in a long time.

Love

She was in love. That's what everybody told her. But wasn't love supposed to be happy? As far as she saw it, love was incinerating who she was, blinding what vision she had, deafening her ears to anything other than what he said. She hated it.

She was obsessed. Every detail of him she had etched into her mind. Every hair, every crease in his face when he smiled. She could recall every last speck of color in his eyes, every last word he had said.

Her body had far depreciated from its original beauty, and the reflection of happiness in her eyes no longer shone.

She reached for her cell phone and dialed. He wasn't going to pick up. She knew that. His father had stopped picking up five phonecalls ago. Still she called.

A futile attempt.

She hung up on the voice mail, letting the phone slip out of her hand.

Standing, she walked over to her desk, and placed her hands on the back of the chair. They gripped at the wood, veins popping out of her skin. Her face twisted into a cruel grimace, and she ripped the chair off the floor, and catapulted it through the air, where it hit and dented the wall.

How dare he go and die on her? She had been so happy with him, and he chose to end it all. Selfish bastard. Was he thinking about her when he pulled the trigger? No. Otherwise he wouldn't have done it. Otherwise, he would be right here now. With her.

But he wasn't.

And she fell back onto the bed, and curled herself into a sphere. She was in love, they told her. In love with a dead man.

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Opinions? Critique?

You know I love critique.

Introduction

The boy stood on the doorstep, raised his hand to the doorbell, and pressed it. Two seconds later, the dampened sound was followed by a shuffling and the door swung open. An old man stepped out.

The young boy took a deep breath, and released his well-rehearsed line. "Hello sir, my name is Adam. My troop is selling wreaths for this Christmas season. Would you like to buy one?"

The old man look out from sad eyes, his face permanantly drooping into a frown.

He shook his head, and apologized. The scout frowned, deflated, and thanked the man for his time.

He trudged to the next door, and rang the doorbell.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Adam. My troop is selling wreaths for this Chrismas season..."

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This is a simple snapshot, but I like it. Please comment and critique.~

100 Themes Challenge

Okay, so I'm taking up the 100 themes challenge. The basic premise is that I write a short for each of the 100 themes, and post them up here. I plan to go in order.

This is good writing practice, and it should be fun. Feel free to use it.

The list:

1. Introduction

2. Love

3. Light

4. Dark

5. Seeking Solace

6. Break Away

7. Heaven

8. Innocence

9. Drive

10. Breathe Again

11. Memory

12. Insanity

13. Misfortune

14. Smile

15. Silence

16. Questioning

17. Blood

18. Rainbow

19. Gray

20. Fortitude

21. Vacation

22. Mother Nature

23. Cat

24. No Time

25. Trouble Lurking

26. Tears

27. Foreign

28. Sorrow

29. Happiness

30. Under the Rain

31. Flowers

32. Night

33. Expectations

34. Stars

35. Hold My Hand

36. Precious Treasure

37. Eyes

38. Abandoned

39. Dreams

40. Rated

41. Teamwork

42. Standing Still

43. Dying

44. Two Roads

45. Illusion

46. Family

47. Creation

48. Childhood

49. Stripes

50. Breaking the Rules

51. Sport

52. Deep in Thought

53. Keeping a Secret

54. Tower

55. Waiting

56. Danger Ahead

57. Sacrifice

58. Kick in the Head

59. No Way Out

60. Rejection

61. Fairy Tale

62. Magic

63. Do Not Disturb

64. Multitasking

65. Horror

66. Traps

67. Playing the Melody

68. Hero

69. Annoyance

70. 67%

71. Obsession

72. Mischief Managed

73. I Can't

74. Are You Challenging Me?

75. Mirror

76. Broken Pieces

77. Test

78. Drink

79. Starvation

80. Words

81. Pen and Paper

82. Can You Hear Me?

83. Heal

84. Out Cold

85. Spiral

86. Seeing Red

87. Food

88. Pain

89. Through the Fire

90. Triangle

91. Drowning

92. All That I Have

93. Give Up

94. Last Hope

95. Advertisement

96. In the Storm

97. Safety First

98. Puzzle

99. Solitude

100. Relaxation

POV and Narrators

In response to the question: When picking points of view for your fiction, what do you consider? Is there any rules about combining points of view in a longer piece? Any limitation to the number of narrators?

For the most part, my default POV is third person limited, and I like to stick with one main narrator throughout the story. As it is, I like to play around with POV, and switch narrators on occasion. I consider what the story would look like from each perspective, and I attempt to write a chapter in each POV that I am seriously considering. If I like it better in first person, then first person it is. If I like it better in third, then it is third. Simple as that.

As for rules, if the piece is started in first person, it stays first person. It can switch narrators, but not from first to third.

I don't like to put limits on anything. Especially writing techniches. Some very classic books have had dozens of different narrators. However, I usually only write a few narrators if I change narrators at all.

Pre-writing

You obviously haven't seen my sketch-and-paper-filled notebooks, or you'd know the answer to that.

In response to the question:How much pre-writing do you do before starting a writing project?

I do a lot of pre-writing for every writing project I do. In every novel I approach I first define the world. This world is extensive, and I include everything from politics of different countries to any creature that habituate the world not found on Earth. If the world is set as future Earth, I set up and write out all the important events that lead up to said event. If the world is set in historical Earth or province of Earth, I fill my notebook with research from the time period.

There is no such thing as a too detailed world. Why is this?

Because more than one story can branch off of the same world. One story may follow a girl as she grows up through unusual circustances, with other forces of the world shaping and developing who she becomes. Another story may follow a polititian who has to make the decision to join an unstoppable empire, or to stand up for what he knows is right. Another story may follow the path of an ordinary citizen in the world. These stories can interconnect, and overlap, or be completely independant from one another. One may end in death, another in victory.

And once the world is laid out and the plot chosen, I write out what happens in what order, list any key events, outline the story, and make it more outlined, until all I need to do is expand.

So yes. I do a lot of pre-writing, but not without reason. I can skip around and write where I have inspiration. Everything is connected chronologically, and any themes or reoccurring points can be plotted in and tied together from different scenes. It's like I have an underpainting, and all I have to do is add color.

Editing One's Own Work

Here's a slogan- just do it.

In response to the question: how do you edit your own work?

Editing one's own work can be difficult, and often it is easier to edit somebody else's work. But self-editing is not only difficult, it is a necessary process with which a writer will struggle for his or her entire career. With that said, there are some significant ways to make self-editing much easier.

To start, type it up and save a copy under "first draft" or something equivalent. This copy should never be touched, for it is merely a snapshot of what the novel originally was, and if you end up getting rid of a part that ended up being necessary, you can go retrieve it.

After that is done, reread the novel, detach yourself, and start cutting out what is not necessary. This is difficult, as you may have spent so much of your precious time writing that part. Cut if it is not necessary for the novel's story. It will otherwise detract.

Next, go find a grammar Nazi, and ask them to edit your book for grammar. This is always better done by somebody else, unless you are a grammar Nazi, in which case, may I have your email? I should also note that grammar Nazi's are your friends. Keep them close, give them hugs, buy them Christmas gifts or chocolate, etc.

Next, when I edit, I read, and annotate. I ask questions, I read the novel or short out loud to myself, and if I trip up, I circle it. If something sounds off, I underline it. I suggest changes to myself. I analyze my own writing, and characters, to see if it comes across as I wan it. I note smilies and metaphors, and allusions to other literature. And then I add and subtract what needs to be added and subtracted.

And then?

Well, as far as I'm concerned, self editing is over. It's time to give it to your friends and fellow writers and ask them to edit it. And then you have to be a good judge. After your friends edit it, and give you back their copies, you must ask yourself if what they said was what you wanted to do. Use discretion.

Then repeat the self-editing process.

Until you are done.*

And that is how I self-edit. Good luck.

***You are never done with a novel or book or short. Done refers to when you send it in to an editor for even more editing.

Who Watches the Watchmen?

Well, I did.

And for even a comic book to movie translation, it was astoundingly accurate. And the changes that were made, well, they weren't terrible either.

Actually, aside from the ending, I could've read the comic and not seen any major differences, other than perhaps Silk Specter's costume. And I'm not complaining about that. What I am complaining about is the change in Dr. Manhattan's role in the end of the world scenario. Which was, I may add a change from not at all to implied complete cooperation.

Suddenly, it wasn't a cold war turning into a threat from aliens, but rather a cold war turning into a worldwide threat from John. Lovely. This is not a change I support, but it did not change the flavor of the film.

I would still rate this film a 4.75 out of 5. It was not perfect, but it was, in its own right, beautiful.

Fantasy or Reality

In response to the question: do you prefer fantasy or reality? And, of course, why?

Well, that is quite the perplexing question, if only because I live in reality, and it is quite a colorful place. But fantasy in its own right, is beautiful, and magical, and completely unrealistic.

I like both. The escape from reality is the glue that keeps fantasy together, the food upon which the subconscious feasts, the warmth that embraces the reader as they fly through a story, observing what would otherwise be unattainable. Reality can be simultaneously cold and warm at the same time, and when it gets down to the nitty-gritty of what happens next, it is clear, and simple.

It is easy to write fantasy, for one can go anywhere they want, solve the problem in any way they want. It is more difficult in the fact that one must create a world and hold true to what they have created. One must keep track of what has happened and minor details that they may want to change, but cannot unless they get rid of other minor details, or change them so the reader does not jump on the mistake.

Reality can be easy to write in that it is a manipulation of the real laws of society and nature, and all is in existence already. The little girl in a story exists, and therefore small details like her age will not be accidentally changed. Reality can also be difficult. Where does one speed up the story, and where does one slow it down? Where does one start, and where does one stop? These details pertain the both fantasy and reality, but I find them more difficult to come up with in a non-fiction setting than a fictional story.

Call me a weirdo.

But to answer the question, I like both fantasy and reality, but had I the need to choose, I'd choose fantasy over reality. It's more fun.

2010

No. This is not the title of some book I am writing. (Though I will admit in first grade it was a hesitant title that did not go through.)

Happy New Year everybody. It is now 2010 in all areas of the world.

And as some bloggers who are active, and most bloggers who are not, my New Year's resolution is to say NO to procrastination and continue this blog until next year rolls around and my next New Year's resolution is to continue the blog again.

Also, I want to continue writing my stories that have died and those that have not. I want to complete Nano. I want to WRITE as I have never written before.

I also want to stop abusing capitalization.

Another resolution, of which is more of a goal, is to find an antidepressant that works so that I can live again. I am sad that in my year and a third of treatment this has not occurred. Oh well.

Happy New Years everybody. May you have luck with your resolutions, and not forgetting that the date has changed.

Bye.