Of Ink and Lines

I Live a Sheltered Life

2011-09-10T06:28:00.001-05:00

To venture off into the unknown had occurred to me, but itnever happened. Either I never had the chance, or I let the chance stride by,petrified of the consequences.

This boy embodied the unknown. He was the sex I’d never had, hewas the drugs I’d never tried, he was the dancer that I wished I could be. And he was free. He was so incredibly free.

And I was not. I was stuck within my constrictions, too afraidto take that step into the dark, the beautiful night.

I followed my friend and her group to his house, where theydrank. I chose not to. I was a sole outsider, looking in, experiencingsomething almost sacred in nature. The loosening of tongues and inhibitionswith alcohol, the dance that led to bodies being touched, felt, lived. I feltlike a voyeur, watching him dance with male and female alike, watching himlaugh, watching as he looked into the eyes of his partners as their bodies gotto know each other in ways my body did not understand.

It was the most curious of existences, they spoke to me,they included me. I was not one of them. I was laughing, and dancing, andasking, and existing in the presence of gods. And they were gods, in their ownright. They transcended gender, they were not afraid of their sexuality. Theywere confident in who they were.

I watched, as he read a passage, from a book. I watched ashe spoke words of sex, and I watched as a girl grabbed at his belt, pulled himin, reeled him in, and I watched him as he let her.

I spoke to him later, across a wide expanse of couch. Hisvoice was smooth, kind. He was more than happy to hold a conversation, to crossthe line that existed between my existence and theirs. He was intelligent,interesting, gentle, wild. Everything I wished I could be, but was too afraidto change about myself.

It was late, and I left with my friend, went back to thedorm, speaking of philosophy and privilege, and of beautiful men and women, andhow they changed our lives.

All We Have- A Love Poem

2011-06-29T21:02:00.004-05:00

There's a terror in the streets,

where zombies stumble, need to eat,

and to survive is quite a feat-

I won't let them hurt you.

Hand in hand we'll stay alive.

We'll pass each test, we'll survive.

And in the end through will and drive-

I will save you.

And nothing can stop us, not the dead and not fate.

Nothing can kill us, for we will escape,

the destiny that we refuse to placate,

for we're better than good, we are the great

who will find a cure to alleviate

this disease that raises the dead.

And I'll fight for you live for you, cry with you, lie with you,

but heaven forbid that I die for you

for then I'd rise to hunt for you,

and so I'd rather lie to you,

and have you die first.

I won't let you lose me, I'm desperate, I'm scared.

We're being hunted, God let us be spared.

And though we're in danger, as well as we have fared,

I'm afraid I'm beginning to no longer care.

You use me, abuse me, destroy me, confuse me.

You beat me, refuse me,

and I know that you need me,

but God if I could leave thee,

in good conscious, believe me,

I would.

But I can't, so we're here, alive and intact.

Our hearts keep on beating, we're on the right track.

And as much as you hurt me, my love bounces back,

But my mind is beginning, beginning to snap.

I love you, I hate you. I need you, placate you.

But I can't escape you except in my mind.

So easy to leave you, look after but I,

But you need to keep company of me and my mind.

So until the end-

you will survive.

I will survive.

We will survive.

For survival is all we have.

A Lonely God

2011-06-29T20:49:00.005-05:00

I would like to say that this piece is not aimed at anyone, and is not meant to offend. This is a non-fiction piece that I wrote to help me work through some issues about my own religion. Thank you for reading.

The sky is bright, white clouds traversing lazily over a clear impenetrable blue. Below it lays a darker blue, ripping where wind found purchase on its reflective surface. I stand on a large protruding rock, watching the sky and watching the sea- and thinking. Thinking that, if there is a god (of which I'm not saying there is), that would be where he lay, along that thin line of horizon where the two intensities of blue meet.

I've never questioned my belief in God, or rather, the lack thereof, letting the question slip through my mind should it arise, and certainly now, at the age of 18, it is no time to start. But tragedies and horrors and living nightmares have arisen and are far out of my control. I have nowhere to turn, no one to listen, and nobody who will understand.

But all that is superfluous, as I sit and watch that one thin line, lonely, out on the sea.

I feel a serene, deep-seeded connection with the sea, and the sky, and the rock beneath my feet; a wholeness borne of passivity and observance. I feel complete.

And in that moment, I realize that if there is such a god, if he (or she) does exist on that horizon, how lonely he must be, with all his creations running and scurrying about, attempting to worship him and follow his teachings. No god wrote the Bible, just a man: a man who forgot to teach that the serene contentment that I feel now is the closest way to be to any higher being. Our prayers don't reach any god, those precious mumblings and wishes are heard by no one, leaving the wish up to chance and probability, and sometimes one’s own hands. But never a god, never that power that lies on the horizon. Never that lonely consciousness on the sea.

I am not an atheist. Nor am I an agnostic, or a Christian, Catholic, or Jew, or any organized religion. I don't believe in a god, but I believe in that powerful lonely consciousness on that horizon, a friend, an equal. I believe in the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the Earth, and the wind as it blows through the trees, and the sky and the clouds, and that thin horizon off in the distance where the sky meets the Earth and all is calm.

And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there is a god. Maybe I should believe. But what I refuse is the fussing, and the praying, and the Bible, and the prophets, and the mindless ridiculous mulling about that humanity has developed in hopes to please some higher power but does jack squat.

And so I sit, watching the sky, and the sea, and the tide rolling in, and think- how lonely gods must be, worshiped and idoled, without a friend, without an equal, sitting alone on the single line, far off in the distance.

So Guess What!

2011-05-20T22:05:00.002-05:00

School's out for summer!

School's out forever!

For me anyhow. High school is done. It's off into the big bad world of college I go. Onward and upward to success. I hope.

Something Neat

2011-05-19T17:06:00.003-05:00

I'm not going to go through my usual, "I'm resurrecting this blog from the dead", because instead on promising to do it, I am going to do it. And hopefully pull IO from Quicquidlibet into it too. But that's for another email conversation I have yet to have.

Okay. So I found this website. I forget how. I think it was through a friend on dA. Anyhow, it's called 750 words, and it encourages you to write just that many words a day. There's even a point system involved, and a one month challenge where you're supposed to do it every day of a month. I use it to rant, to plan stories, to let out all that violent tension that builds up.

I can not recommend it enough. Go try it out.

Meanwhile, I'm off to write 750 words.

Willow by Julia Hoban

2010-04-24T17:11:00.006-05:00

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...

2010-04-24T16:49:00.004-05:00

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

2010-02-14T15:27:00.005-06:00

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

2010-02-02T18:30:00.006-06:00

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.

___________________________________

Opinions? Critique?

You know I love critique.

Introduction

2010-02-02T18:26:00.004-06:00

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..."

_________________________________________________

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

100 Themes Challenge

2010-02-02T18:20:00.004-06:00

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

2010-01-12T23:34:00.006-06:00

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

2010-01-11T19:57:00.007-06:00

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

2010-01-05T13:16:00.005-06:00

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?

2010-01-04T12:52:00.005-06:00

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

2010-01-02T13:33:00.007-06:00

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

2010-01-01T18:28:00.004-06:00

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.

Stuck?

2009-12-30T11:43:00.004-06:00

Move on.

In response to the question: What do you do when you are stuck?

First off, I do not believe in writer's block. I believe in the interruption of flow of writing due to a lack of inspiration on the part of the writer. I believe in a lack of willingness and endurance to continue by the writer. But I do not believe in writer's block.

When I get stuck I do one of four things.

Push on through.
Go look for inspiration.
Forget about it for a few months and work on something else.
Move on forward in the piece to a part that I have inspiration for.

Guess which one works the best.

Is is number 1, of which results in poor writing that is later fixed up in the editing process? Is it number 2, which may lead to 3, or worse provide you with something you didn't want as inspiration, so you get stuck with renditions of robin hood each time you look at the story? Is it number 3, of which results in large time gaps, but may result in the best writing of the next section? Or is it number 4, Which allows for good writing, inspoirations, and a need to connect the dots?

The choice it truly up to you. Or me. Or just the writer. And the pro and ons of each may need to be weighed.

As it is, this is the Inktress, signing out.

Avatar: Not the Last Airbender (In 3D)

2009-12-29T21:44:00.006-06:00

For a movie that took twelve years to make, one expects high quality, good plot, compelling characters, and excellent special effects. I am happy to say that this movie qualified for 3.956667 of these standards.

The movies main character, Jake Sully, a paraplegic jarhead who takes control of a specially designed native body, was intelligent, funny, and altogether, a normal idiot. He takes the watcher through a very Disney Pocahontas type plot and falls in love and eventually saves the day. The main female lead, Neytiri, was a strong, princess type character, whose no bullshit type attitude causes the audience to back her up and fall in love with the world she represents. And the world...

Oh.

My.

God.

For a CGI world, complete with floating mountains, it was so realistic that you often forgot that it's, well, not. The effects were spectacular: the 3D was realistic, though at the beginning it focuses your eyes for you, which gets a little annoying; the CGI was beautiful, realistic; the few sets were intrinsically designed and integrated into the world... There are so few faults that all I can say is... wow.

But it does have faults. It is cliche to a fault, though beautifully executed. Very predictable, but entertaining. The unattainable mineral, unobtainium (No I am not making this up.) distracts quite a bit from the seriousness of several important scenes. (Though the film does need its fair share of laughs, don't get me wrong. I just don't think this was the best way to do it.) The boss battle was a bit drawn out to the point of overextension, and perhaps it was somewhat unrealistic.

What did bug me a little is the fact that the movie was very anti-industrial, anti-gun, anti- anything that is made of metal and that harms nature. Which I agree with on a much lesser scale. I am not anti-gun, and I am not anti-industry, but I do believe humans should take care of natural resources and not kill natives.

But overall, I'd give the movie a 5 star review. That is, if I were a professional film critic.

Of Windlings

2009-12-28T21:59:00.006-06:00

My windling novel has been on hiatus since school's start. (I really ought to get back.)

But since it's been asked, and because it always helps to write about your stories, or talk them through, I am going to tell you a little about them. Because, let's be honest, what's a writing blog for, elsewise?

So I have a windling story, and it has a lot (and I do mean a lot) of prewriting that has gone into it. To start with, I usually have to define windlings and the expansionist, dystopian society in which is founded.

windling- a creature born into the most dominant speices on the planet (humans) that has designation and control over a specific element of nature. (i.e. death, regeneration, ice, fire, shadows, calamity)

the dystopian society- New Earth is a combination of the Earth's most powerful nations that are slowly taking control of the entire world through warfare. During the story, it controls approximately two thirds of the Earth, excluding Africa and Australia.

New Earth's Academy for Gifted Students (NEAGS)- After New Earth Discovered the existence of windlings the decided to exterminate them. This plan failed, as the windlings are replaced by new babies after death. Thus they decided to force integration into the military by bringing them all to one school where they taught them and brainwashed them so they would not use their powers against New Earth (which is industrial, which does tend to tick off the representatives of nature).

Windlings of New Earth (WNE)- Windlings that have graduated from NEAGS and are now part of the New Earth Army.

The Guardians- A group of renegade windlings that believe that they need to protect nature by getting rid of the New Earth Regime by killing everybody they can, and getting rid of as much of the human population as possible so that Earth may regenerate.

The Olympians- A group of renegade windlings that believes it needs to negotiate with New Earth to set up nature as a more dominant force and humans as a lesser one. Disagrees with the Guardians on a regular basis.

The Independents- The windlings that live in Australia and the southern half of Africa, that work with their governments to make their world a better place. Non-military, regular citizens. That have cool powers that can destroy stuff.

With those terms thoroughly defined, I can now talk about my plot with minimal interruption.

Which I will.

Eventually.

What influences your writing?

2009-12-28T15:16:00.005-06:00

Everything.

In response to the question: what influences your writing?

My writing is influenced by the world around me. As I seem to always be writing dystopian societies, it would be fair to turn to one of my main influences: politics, especially today.

Now I do follow politics, and of this I consider myself proud. Doing what I'm supposed to. But I like to look at constructions of governments and such, and blow different portions or ideas out of proportion.

Other times, I'll be in an old building, and I'll almost literally be able to see an entire scene unfold in the building. And it is beautiful. And then I go and write it down.

Sometimes, I'll be anywhere, and strike up a conversation with an interesting stranger, and add them in quietly in the background of my story.

Life inspires. I collect stories, and then the stories come out on paper. This person here, this setting here, this political school of thought there. So yes, life inspires.

Everything inspires.

How do you come up with your characters' names?

2009-12-27T20:19:00.002-06:00

One at a time, my friends. One at a time.

In response to the question: How do you come up with your characters' names?

Okay. this is a relatively difficult question, due to the fact, that, well, I have several different methods. I actually have one character that remains unnamed.

More often than not, though, I come up with the characters' personalities, roles, and environment growing up first, and then decide what their parents would likely name a child, and then pick and choose what fits them. I do not have names that reflect the individual powers of the characters, or adjectives in different languages that mean sad or angry or something (i.e. Tristan). Those types of names tick me off.

Sometimes though, they just say hi, my name is Sky (Almost true story. Originally she was a River.) And that being said, I also like nature names.

But in historical fiction, or stories with different themes on it, I find names by going through historical records and picking names that just seem to fit the character. Of course, picking and choosing can be difficult at times, and then I do the simplest thing and put in a number or code that I could later ctrl+r with a later chosen name. Mostly because temporary names always stick.

And that is how I come up with names. Names are important, and sometimes symbolic, and can make or break a character sometimes. So as advice to my fellow writers, choose your names carefully, and trust your gut feelings. Those are usually all you need.

What are your strengths as a writer?

2009-12-19T13:00:00.005-06:00

The hardest part about this question is admitting I have strengths as a writer. Which I do, though I know I am not good as other people. But yes, I still have strengths.

In reponse to the the question: What are your strengths as a writer?

Ideas - I am very good with coming up with ideas. If I didn't have to actually write them out, I would have over twenty books published by now. My worlds extrapolate on themselves and each other, until I have one story line here, with this main character, and another story line here with somebody who meets the first main character in passing. And then the story explodes outward, with infinite possibilities, and an infinite number of endings. Which ultimately forces me to ask- which ones?
Editing works - I am very good at going through a piece and taking parts out that need to be taken out, or making another part smoother. To be honest, I work best with other people's works. I'd probably make a good career editor. I take the piece, read it once, note any major events or foreshadowing, as well as any parts that would sound awkward. Then I divide it into parts and edit it, cutting out irrelevant and detracting bits where they need to be. I am merciless. I am also effective.
Dialog - Its funny when I reread my works, and I notice how as soon as I incorporate dialog, quality of writing and flow greatly increases. As far as I have noticed, this does not apply to me alone. Therefore, I love conversations. But communication is not always verbal, so one really must be careful with dialog.
Description - I have been told, that people love my description. I am able to describe much better using poetic devices. Poetic devices are fun.
Using Figurative Language - As is figurative language. The fun thing about poetry and figurative language is that you can write one thing, imply something else, and take and take an object, and somehow make it mean more than all it's mass ever could. Figurative language is powerful.
Making Points Connect - And lastly. Making points connect. It's beautiful when a piece can be reread and each time you notice something new. Like that's why so-and-so did this and that directly results in this falling causing plot element D later on in the chapter when they can't find the book. It really is beautiful. That is why it is important in any piece to note any foreshadowing and where characters are at any time. Then you can defend a small part your editor wants to cut, when really the action taken in that portion directly connects to major plot elements, as a way of foreshadowing. Making points connect is really what makes or breaks a book for me. So do it. Okay fellow writers? It's a good exercise.

People, Children, Tools

2009-12-19T12:37:00.004-06:00

Yes.

In repsponse to the question: Do you see your characters as people? As children? As tool?

My characters are my babies. I create them, I nurture them, I watch them develop, I fall in love with their quirks, make my audience fall in love with them, and then kill them off for effect. Which would make me a bad mother, except for the fact that my characters are not my babies except in a very loose metaphorical sense. They seem like people. They have their own lives, feelings, thought patterns, etc. So yes the are people.

But people I have complete control over.

Which brings us to the last part of the question, and the real answer. They are tools. They tell my story. They are carefully crafted tools, that dance across the pages, like puppets doing my bidding, responding to my every whim, thought, or delusion. I want this character to save that character's life? Done. Another character to break the law? Done. This crowd favorite to die? That was predetermined at birth.

I will admit to the fact that once I create a character, there are some things I cannot do without completely changing the character. If it is against a character's morals to break the law, I cannot logically make him break the law without creating a motive strong enough to make him do so.

Some writers say that their characters write the story on their own. Personally, I don't know what they are on. The writer is always in control of the piece and characters. No characters come off the page and write it for you. They may give pointers in the way of 'would that character really do that?' or 'why does this happen?' But other than that, they are figments being written on paper.

Which is why, ultimately, characters are tools.

What Kind of Writer are You?

2009-12-18T13:12:00.002-06:00

A good one. In my universe where I am good at everything. Which I may also add doesn't exist.

In response to the question: what kind of writer are you?

As to what kind of writer I am, I'd have to say a wannabe novelist, short story writer, and poet.

As for what genre I write, it depends on my mood.

I have written:

Horror - for the most part short stories
Sci-fi - Short stories and novels (not finished)
Fantasy - Novels and shorts
Historical Fiction - short stories <3
Steam Punk -short stories

But the general themes of my work include strong female main characters and dystopian civilizations. Dystopia themes don't always have to be sci-fi, though I do admit that it helps. I have several stories that prove my point.

However, writing, other than this blog and for school, is currently on a hiatus while I get my feet back under me at school. So if I were to answer the question in the moment, it would have to be essayist and blogger. Which hey, I do enjoy writing essays and speeches. I actually have a few that are planned for this blog.

Where do you write?

2009-12-16T15:54:00.004-06:00

Anywhere I want to.

In response to the question: where do you write?

Most of my inspiration comes to me in class, to be completely honest, which would be fine if I was in a writing style class, but usually, I am not. In fact, I would go as far as to say that I am completely horrible at picking times to write. I have poetry in the back of my math binder, a full fledged short story in the back of my economics notebooks, and countless other story beginnings scattered throughout other notebooks where my ideas land so I can stop obsessing over them for the rest of class.

As to where I like to actually sit down and write, the answer happens to be my room. My room is very comfortable, and I can take my laptop and start typing for however long I need to. There is no place quite as comfortable or care-free as my room, and I feel like I can sit down and concentrate on what I want to do. This is where my stories extrapolate into universes of disproportional sizes, sci-fi galaxies to small towns on the oceans edge back in the 1800s. Characters emerge, and I have to prewrite and get everything down and organize who is where in the story at what time, and why it matters, and remember to eat because there is no food in my room and I will otherwise forget.

Sometimes it's nice to go outside and write freehand on paper, and just look at the sky and draw inspiration from my little world. Sometimes I write description, sometimes I write poetry, sometimes I work on my stories.

It all depends on my mood.

What's hard about writing?

2009-12-14T20:29:00.005-06:00

Well, a lot of things, really.

In response to the question: what do you find the hardest about writing?

First off, keeping a piece going to completion is one of the hardest parts about writing. It is difficult for me to sit down and actually write a novel. To be honest, I have not finished a single one, and have hardly gotten past the beginning in most of them.

My best works, as I see it are short stories because, le gasp, I actually finish them.

I get distracted easily, which may have something to do with my ADD, and I have trouble keeping on topic (again with the ADD).

I know its quantity that can easily turn into quality.

It's just difficult getting to that point without feeling like you have to go back.

And that is where I run into issues. The beginning of my writing has always been looked over hundred of time where the last part desprately needs revision. That is just the way it is. Sometimes I wish that I could simply sit and write and not go back. That would be beautiful. If I could actually be honest with myself and do it.

Also, with finishing a work, comes my good friend: writer's block. Writer's block and me go back a long ways. Every single thing I write seems to go through a point where words aren't seeming to come alive and go onto the page. (Not in a dyslexia way, mind you, but rather a, "this is going really well" type of way.) And sometimes, even when I am trying to force it, the words just stop coming and I have to look at it and ask. "Do I need a break?" "Am I doing something wrong?" "Why is my keyboard not working?" (Last one has a funny story behind it. Maybe I'll blog it if my nonexistent readers ask.) But getting over writers block simply means getting inspired. How can you force inspiration? You can't. But you can sure make it easier to find you.

Talking about your story with some fellow writers or starting at a different point may help. I find fellow writers the most useful tools out there. (Find some and make friends over a cup of tea. And invite me, if you will. I like tea.)

Also on the difficulties with writing: editing my own work. The easy solution: get other writers to look over a piece for you. This is probably why I love other writers so much. (Other than their intriguing and absolutely brilliant personalities.) But yes, with editing my own work, I find it difficult to cut out what needs to be cut out. And figuring out what needs to be cut out is even more so difficult. And actually having the piece in hand helps too. Which brings us back to point one.

So yes. The answer is endurance in writing, and self-editing, which shouldn't be done anyways.

I'm off to get a cup of tea.

So you call yourself a writer...

2009-12-14T19:35:00.022-06:00

Hello random readers who I like to pretend exist.

This time I am actually writing about me. Mostly because it's easy, and I feel like this blog is dead. So yes, I do call myself a writer. For various reasons, the main one being that I write.

So I will be answering a good number of questions actually found on a blog chain. Which I stole. Or copied. Take your pick.

I will be answering them as quickly as possible. As many as one a day. Until they start coming at once a week. Or I come up with my own questions. Which eve comes first.

I will of course credit the blog chain right now for their inspiration, because I definitely need it.

The members of this blog chain are:

Girl With a Notebook

From Elysium

Sometimes helpful nonsense...

Somewhere in my Nowhere Kingdom

Flames and Shadows

If one of the people from aforementioned is reading this, thank you for your stolen questions. They make me happy.

Questions:

What makes a character memorable to you?

If you could present your work to one (or more) specific author(s), who would it be?

How do you improve your writing?

What is new with your writing life?

What was the last thing that inspired you?

What are your writing quirks?

What's your most recent obsession, as far as writing is concerned? Is there anything that's recently (or not so recently) begun to pop up in everything you write?

What are your plans for your career as a writer?

How do you manage your time when it comes to writing?

How has writing affected your life?

~~How much pre-writing do you do before starting a writing project?~~

~~What do you do when you are stuck?~~

~~How do you edit your own work?~~

~~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?~~

~~Do you prefer fantasy or reality? And, of course, why?~~

~~What influences your writing?~~

~~~~How do you come up with our characters' names?~~~~

~~~~What are your strengths as a writer?~~~~

Do you see your characters as people? As children? As tools?
~~What kind of writer are you?~~
~~Where do you write?~~
~~What do you find are the hardest things about writing?~~

I swear I'm alive still.

2009-10-15T16:59:00.001-05:00

I've just been on a bit of a hiatus, depressed, suicidal, busy, sick and now I'm back.

Yay! I'm back!

How trivial, this post.

2009-05-19T23:45:00.001-05:00

A blank sheet of paper.

White.

Crisp.

Unmarked by ink or lead.

It shines, a blank canvas,

So beautiful and clean in its perfection.

How difficult to scar its surface-

To ruin its naivety.

And yet so necessary to write a thought.

How trivial, the paper.

How trivial, the thought.

_________________________

Another poem.

This one comes from a notebook that I used to write in all the time.

This is basically what happened each time I encountered a fresh page.

What a silly Inktress.

Melody

2009-05-19T23:40:00.000-05:00

A precious little melody

winding between notes and chords.

A grand crescendo followed by a peaceful lull.

Ascending arpeggios, climbing for the rafters,

only to fall two octaves to the floor.

A run up the chromatic scale,

to run back down.

Never to reach the top of the staff,

the highest note.

It can only try.

_______________

This is a poem I composed a while back. It's not much but I like it.

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Thank you.

Obviously New

2009-05-19T00:54:00.002-05:00

Hello blogspot! This is the Inktress speaking. And speak she will. This is not a blog for random ramblings, as much as this may seem like one right now. This is a blog for me.

If I find myself interested in something, research it, and write an article on it, you will know. If I find myself having written another chapter into my ongoing novel, you will know. If I actually get around to typing up some poetry, you will know.

But until then, you get this nice little filler blog. Lovely, no?

I am new at this, so I hope you'll forgive a few transgressions along the way. But as it is, I will likely update again within the week.

Because, my readers, how else does one run a blog?

I am going to pretend that I don't sound like an idiot who's attempting to write a blog. Because hey, I'm just a girl with alot of stories in her head that need to come out on paper eventually.

Then again, everything is eventual, it would seem.