Lately, I've been doing more reading than writing, because I want to see what is out there, what is being written about that is having an impact on the world. Right at this moment, I am reading a book called. "Redneck Riviera," by Dennis Covington. I am more than halfway finished with it. It is about a man who inherits a piece of worthless property in Florida and sets out to claim it. It has been taken over by squatters, hunters with a Hunt Club who treat the land they're on, which was supposed to be a housing development, but turned out to be a land scam, like their own property, and try to scare the proper landowners away. It is a memoir piece, which I've been fiddling with memoir writing for a while. It is a really good example of memoir writing--funny, entertaining, deeply personal, yet all the more universal for its personal narration. I definately recommend it. The next two books on the list are Augusta Gone and The Dew Breaker. I'll let you know how they turn out.

I feel as if the whole purpose of this blog, a space to interact and share my experiences as both a writer and a reader, is for nothing because no one reads anything I've been writing, so I think I will start to wind down this blog and move on to another thing. If you do read, when I decide where to go with it, I will leave a link. Thanks.

I deserve a handclap for finishing my short story on vandalism! Okay, so it's not technically finished because I'm still revising, but it's about the small victories.

So I have an idea about the art story. I finally think I know where I am going with it, theme wise. The vandalism piece was about rights, ownership, what you can and cannot own, what you can choose, be it memories, etc. There was a sense of empowerment in choice. The art story is not any of that, except choice. It's mostly about choice to begin with, about the freedom of being able to choose, but more deeply, it's about if the choices that matter are really the ones we get to make. And self-acceptance plays a big part in it. The art that she is creating, this piece of these men she is trying to keep is an effort to give herself a consolation prize for not being chosen. She choses men that don't choose her in return, but she goes into the relationships knowing this already, so what's her real motivation for choosing things she can't keep? You'll have to wait and see, along with me. My manuscript for the piece is going at it from a million different angles, and I am still sorting through the mess. But I'm just happy I've accomplished some more on the writing front.

I think that the jazzy piece is going to be something really special, if I ever get a chance to really delve into it like I want to. I've really been focusing on the shorter pieces that would be finished and ready to publish sooner. I keep finding things that I want to say, ideas that I want to get across, not just interesting characters, or fun plots; there's a new demension of meaning. I just want to make sure that the ideas don't overwhelm the material, or vice versa.

I'll write more later.

I am not in school at the moment. I had financial difficulties. But, in typical me fashion, I decided not to let any of this get me down. I decided that I would take the semester off and pursue my dream of being published. I have started four new projects--which will be referred to as the vandalism story, the art story, the grandma story, and the boots story--and have been working on gettting them ready to submit to writing contests.

On to the stories: the boots story was the first new story that I began. It is about, not boots, but a guy, whose name is never uttered in the work, who is attacked in an alley, and is helped by a woman. The story started off from reality, then grew. I was trying to think of something to write when my father called, wanting to chat (he seems so much more friendly and wanting to chat now that I'm not in school; it makes me wonder). He told me about a call he had from my uncle, who told him about my cousin, Man, who had beat up his sister's boyfriend with a couple of his friends because the boyfriend had gotten someone else pregnant while with his sister. My uncle, a pastor, stopped them from kicking the guy to death. I immediately began to wonder about this from the guy's point of view, what it must be like to be on the ground with this Timberland boot coming towards you again and again. But the attack in the alley, and all of the events thereafter, are completely from my imagination.

The next story I started was the Grandma story. Remember how I told you that Grandma and Great Grandpa were propped up against my computer? Well, I was looking at Grandma and I started thinking what kind of grandma she would have been, what type of things she would have told me. Then I started to think about my family, and other characters began to take shape. So far there is Grandma Ruby, the narrator, which at this point is me, an Aunt Carolyn (pronounced by the characters more like curl in), an Uncle Charlie, and Grandma's daughter (and my mother) Cassie. The only person like anyone I know is Uncle Charlie, the rest are made up completely, even "me." My narrator, Beverly, does something I would never do (I won't reveal details) that starts the action of the story.

The art story is actually about a young woman who sleeps around. She happens to be a scupltor. So far, I haven't gotten to the meat of the story yet, I'm just establishing her character. It's still very much a work in progress.

Lastly, the vandalism story is the one I'm most excited about, and the one I want to reveal the least about. There's a girl named Victoria who is the first person narrator. She has a problem, and the whole story started out about me and took a left. You see, I have this unique problem. I can remember things in startling detail, when I remember them. But there are some episodes of my life that are gone as soon as they have been lived. I can recall I had an experience, but I can't remember it all, just pieces. It's why I keep so many diaries, to help recollect certain things I know I may forget. I started with an observation of this problem of mine, but then I thought, what if what she can't remember are remembrances more sinister, things that she is actively not remembering, subconsciously? There is vandalism in this story, but you'll have to wait until it's published to find out how it fits in.

I was reading an Emily Dickinson poem and it struck so many of the themes in my recent works that I decided that I may use some lines or phrases for the titles. I haven't decided on what to call which story yet.

Well, that's it for the writing life, aside from reviving some old favorites. I added two characters to my Aria story, Jazz and Mr. Magic himself, Magic Kilburn. I didn't know Magic was going to be a first name until I wrote it. His mother was a fan of Magic Johnson, I guess. I love this character, as well as Jazz. This story is a good one with the names. Even Aria's guitar is nicely named.

I will try to write more often. Wish me luck!

Time has been flying by and I haven't done much of anything. This whole experience has been so stressful. I am no longer attending Purdue University. I am now attending a different university. All of the static in my life has caused nothing but problems for my writing life. I can't get a channel to play for anything on the Creativity Channel. But I'm trying to write my way through the fog, seeing only an inch or two in front of me.

I'm being a master of nothing at the moment. I'm listening to XM Satellite Radio, The City. I'm sitting at my desk with Grandma and Great-Granddad propped up next to my computer for inspiration. I think I'm going to sit here and free write for a while. If anything comes out that's really good, I'll let you know.

Hopefully, I'll have good news to report the next time I write, which will be soon, because I am at home with the internet and two days a week out of school (Tues. and Thurs.). India.Arie's Better People is playing. I love this album. It is so inspiring and beautiful. Much love to Miss India.Arie on her third success.

Off to write the American Novel

I wrote some more of that novel-in progress I'd submitted to Literary Awards. It seems to be a pretty good piece of writing for a first draft. I felt really good about the writing that I'd done, and had been writing down a lot of impressions and reflections from this trip to Florida for some future writings, but everything came to a halt a few days ago. I'll get to that in a moment. Remember that story I told you about the girl changing her life because of her upcoming class reunion? I've decided to add a character. I have a few aunts down here that I can exaggerate into the mother from hell. As I was reading about this woman's boyfriend, his father sounded almost just like my aunts. It shows that even in high school, they were the same old aunts. I've also toyed around with changing the catalyst slightly. I mean, the reunion will still be the target date to have all of this "life revision" completed, but I thought about using a diffeerent catalyst, like something I remember from high school that I think is really unique. It will give me great material for a flashback sequence, where I can make more use of this class secretary. I've added a few elements to the original, so it should work out fabulously.

On to why all the writing stopped. My financial aid is in crisis right now. I've been working so hard to get my gpa up and qualify for more grants and scholarships, but the money isn't coming. I can't take out the loan I would have to to return to Purdue because I don't have a viable co-signer (no cosigner at all really). That leaves me here with not enough money to go back, so I will have to either transfer or take a year off to work and save enough to go back. Ugh! Nothing like a school crisis to kill a good creative buzz. And the negativity down here kicked what little was left, except to inspire a new character.

So if you are praying Christians out there, pray for me. This is going to be a tough month coming up. I have no idea what the Lord has in store for me, but I know it will lead to blessings (and good writing!).

The new update for you, as far as my writing goes. I've had quite a summer, one that I'm sure will yield a lot of new material, but for the moment, I've been focusing on some of the things that I'd already started. I wanted to get some work done on the piece I submitted to literary awards this past semester. I don't think I will resubmit it, but I do believe in it, and I would like to see it published one day. That, of course, would be the best way to close that whole chapter, to be able to see it in print and feel validated. But besides that, it's a great story, and it's going to be even better.

The piece that I'm thinking about submitting for this year as the novel-in-progress needs a lot of work. I started it when I came to Florida last year. I got the idea after reading a magazine article about Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston's trip to the Holy Land. Don't laugh, it's not a crazy book about the two of them. It's a serious story that actually has nothing to do with Whitney, Bobby, or the Holy Land, but more with why someone would have thought that it would have been a good idea to take them there. In other words, kind of what I thought they could possibly be looking for, and whether or not people really do find that.

On to another oldie but goodie. I started a story my senior year of high school about a woman who decides to make some major changes in her life when she gets a reminder notice about her high school reunion. She hasn't done what she had always planned to do, and she decides that she is going to do all of the things she said she would as an eighteen year old. I've always thought it was a good idea, kind of like a Last Holiday with Queen Latifah, but better and one that more people can relate to. I mean, believe it or not, by the time you graduate college, four years have passed already and the reunion is only six years away, thirty is only seven or eight away.

So anyway, those are the things I'm working on. I thought that maybe I would have something to post on a secure site for people to read soon, but it'll be a minute or two before I do that, simply because of the time I have to spend working in order to pay for school and whatnot. I will write more often though.

The writing life, recently, has been more research than writing. I have a character that I am working on who does nothing with anyone. She goes to work and comes home, and that is the extent of her interaction with people, save an older woman, possibly a neighbor, until the entrance of someone else that's the crux of the story. So, I've been developing a routine for her through my own repetition of the same things everyday. It's boring me out of my mind. It's not hard though, as I don't have much time or opportunity for social interaction with anyone my age. I lead exactly the type of life this woman will lead.

Now I have to build the woman up, make her a real woman who has a distinctive way of talking, walking, thinking--a way that is very different from mine. I like people, but this character does not. I am bored and want something else to do while living her life, but it's the only way that she can function at the start of the story.

At least I have things to think about...That's more than I had before.

The type of writing I want to do: That's a big question mark. I haven't tried everything yet, not short story writing for one. I have tried novel writing and even poetry, but I don't think I've found my niche yet. I've thought for a long time about turning my attentions towards Christian Fiction, and I've been tossing a few diefferent ideas around in my head, but so far I haven't come up with anything concrete. It's still a great possibility.

My Christianity is a big part of my writing life, whether I've always realized it or not. There isn't much that I've written that hasn't at least alluded to the big themes of the Bible, and some of my better received pieces are those that directly address spiritual truths. Maybe that's where my calling truly lies, in writing Christian literature. I don't know. I don't mean to be wishy-washy. I think it's the writer's block that makes me so.

I've never felt so empty of ideas and theories. I'm empty of names, places, time period, themes, plotlines, motifs--everything. I don't see anything like I normally do. But maybe my eyes aren't even open. Maybe my creativity is asleep, continuously hitting the snooze button, only dreaming she is up and getting ready to start out.

I'm going to go on anway, and sit around watching the cursor blink until something worth punching the keys comes along.

So, I've decided I don't just have to stick to the topic of writing in here; I may as well tell you a little something about me. In real life, I am a college student, but in this mystical universe called Summer Vacation, I work at a group home, doing a little bit of everything--cooking, cleaning, paperwork, technical assisting, activities coordinator, manager-- which is fine by me because it keeps me from getting bored. I work with six adults receiving services at the group home. I do everything with them from eating to playing tennis. It is not a very demanding job physically from day to day, although it can be when some of the people get aggressive. Gitta go...about to get off. More in depth later.

I am in Florida again, and I am going to get some really good writing done. I wrote a really crappy first draft to what I hope will be my third novel (I have yet to complete any of them, but that is another issue entirely). The thing is, this particular novel should have been the first, but it's been hard to get the idea together. There are two main characters, one male and one female. I was trying to decide whether or not the characters will be friends or become a couple. That is the most crucial problem; it is the hinge the story will pivot on, so I have to choose correctly.

The novel I am the furthest on is having a very different problem. The problem is that I need to figure out some of the plot twists and turns, to get the story to move a little freer. This story appears to need a good haircut: you know how you get one of those hair cuts that allows your hair to feel less weighted, to move more freely.

The third novel is not having any of these problems. The only problem is direction. Where the heck is it going? The plot that I do have is moving swiftly, the characters are coming together well in personality, the language--jazzy, bluesy, colorful--flows so beautifully, the dialogue is realistic, and I have no idea where it is going.

I haven't written a bit of poetry in a long time, but I will try my hand at the art again. n

I will keep in touch more.