Sunday, October 30, 2016

I made a bad decision and it's messed me up a bit

It wasn't something I didn't even bat an eye at doing, but I did it, and while there are no visible consequences- I'm not in trouble with anyone, I'm not losing any money or academic standing or friendships, I'm not getting hooked into something I don't want- there are some emotional ones.

Hindsight is always 20/20.

Some people may say the thing wasn't bad, and perhaps they're right. But for me it was a bad decision. I talked to someone I shouldn't have and had I given myself time to think instead of just rushing forward I would have laughed at myself for even seriously considering it.

But after our conversation ended and we parted ways, I immediately had a sense of dread, had weird emotions rising up, and just felt adrift.

All day I've felt adrift, as if I'm not on solid land anymore. I don't feel like me all the time, like I've split into two people. The person before and during the conversation, and now, me, the person after who has to clean up for that other version.

It's not a sense of hating myself or feeling depressed or anxious, it's a sense of not being entirely present and easily pulled away from my regular life.

As soon as I was in my right mindset I made sure that I wouldn't be talking to this person again. It shouldn't come up again, and if I ever trade words with the person they won't be the same type of words and they won't be frequent.

But still.

Now that I've kind of lost myself I'm looking to find myself. I've decided to step back and really figure out who I am. That doesn't mean my life is going to change, but I need to know what my priorities are and I need to know that these are what matter to me and I shouldn't jeopardize them.

There's a board about wellness here at my school and I think I'm going to take it's advice. It recognizes several different types of wellness (spiritual, environmental, social, emotional, intellectual, and physical) and I want to start focusing on all of them. I think I'll be posting about this again, but I can't promise it will be anytime soon.

One thing I do know: I don't want to stop writing. Writing has helped me. It's gotten me back on sound ground and I've begun to see that I'm not completely adrift, didn't completely stray from my morals, and that I can turn back. It will take a bit, but this is an experience I think I needed to have so that I can bounce back from it.

I just wanted to let someone know.

Friday, October 28, 2016

I noticed something cool while I was editing.

And yes, I'm finally back to writing/editing! I've been copying over the words from my first draft into a new document and changing the pronouns and verbs so that it's a third person story. Which has been so nice because it's like a breath of fresh air to be writing again, you have no idea. But I noticed something cool about the way it was turning out, and I wanted to share it here.

The Original
There are monster’s in the wood. Everyone knows that.
     I stand, feet bare, on the outskirt of the forest. The grass is softest here, on the edge of civilization, and I like how it feels filling the empty space between my toes. Stepmother hovers, not far away, keeping an eye on me. I am still a little girl, and she worries I might get into trouble.
     Above, the branches stretch out to make a thin rooftop. I see a small monster crawl across a branch. It looks like a worm, but as it moves, the bark it goes over changes to blue. Now that spring is here, the woods will discover their colors again.
     I do not know where Father is. I never know where he is. The village priest tells me I should love him unconditionally, as he loves me, but I do not think he loves me. If he loved me, would he leave like he does? Stepmother is a fine person, but I’ve seen how mothers are meant to act and she doesn’t understand her role.
     “Come along, Jocelyn,” Stepmother calls, keeping her distance still, her arms out beckoning for me. I take a step away from the woods, towards her embrace, but don’t turn away from the monsters that lurk within. If you turn away, they know you are afraid.
     The sound of a horse rushing through the forest nearly startles me, but mostly excites me. I run from both Stepmother and the woods and towards the sound of a visitor. This time of the year it could be anyone.
     Stepmother calls my name again, pulls her skirts away from her ankles, and chases after me. I am not disappointed to find the visitor has come to deliver the news. He is panting and his horse’s neck is wet. Brandon, a village boy only a year older than me, has already fetched some soap to wipe the beast down. The messenger dismounts happily and leans hard against the staff he had brought strapped across his back. He has no scroll- he’s not just any messenger but a royal one, prized for his memory.
     “Is there a scribe?” he calls into the town. He has stopped his journey in the middle of Waypoint’s square, and people are starting to flood into it to hear what he says.
     An older woman hobbles over to him. It is Meredith, the seamstress’ mother, and behind her are her three beautiful grandsons. The eldest carries a table out for her, the middle one carries a chair, and the youngest, her favorite, holds a quill pen, ink, and paper like they are gold and rubies. The messenger nods his approval as her grandchildren set up her small station, off the right and in the front row, so that she may record.
     “The Castle and the Crown are proud to inform their people of a competition to begin immediately! The Queen’s Ransom is not for the faint of heart. There is a monster in the mountains, hoarding treasure in the heart of the tallest and deepest mountain, and within its trove is a magic mirror. Whoever can retrieve this mirror will receive a vial of enchanted gold that will cure any curse.
     “Anyone can begin the journey immediately, but there are three challenges any contestant much finish before they can hope to defeat the monster in the mountain. First, they must sacrifice their reflection. Second, they must break a promise. Third, they must discover the truth.
     “To begin the quest you are only allowed a knife, seven loaves of bread, and whatever clothes you can fit on your back. You must sleep outdoors, under the stars, and rise and fall with the sun. You are allowed as many companions as you want. You have exactly one week to complete the quest and return the mirror to the queen. The quest ends when the mirror is returned. No sooner.”
     Meredith finishes and looks up. The town is loud with whispers. Stepmother has caught up to me and has her hands on my shoulders, keeping me from going anywhere. I look up and catch her eye. She is worried, I think, though I do not know why.
     “We can begin immediately?” the blacksmith, George, steps forward.
     The messenger tells him that yes, indeed, he can begin immediately, but that if these things aren’t achieved, the monster in the mountain will surely destroy the man. Then the messenger dismisses himself by mounting his horse suddenly and taking off in the direction of Outpost, the only other town among the trees. Brandon was only half done cleaning the beast and he looks crestfallen at the idea of unfinished work.
     “Come along, Jocelyn,” Stepmother tugs at my shoulders and I follow her steady hands. “Help me prepare supper.”
     I do, and wonder at what someone could do with a vial of enchanted gold.
Here we have a first person present point of view that indicates things are happening the split second you are reading them on the page. I was really enamored with this idea for a while, and in this go-through of editing I'm only changing things from first person to third, so that voice remains the same, which has led to an eerie quality I like.
The New
There are monster’s in the wood. Everyone knows that.
     She stands, feet bare, on the outskirt of the forest. The grass is softest there, on the edge of civilization, and she likes how it feels filling the empty space between her toes. Stepmother hovers, not far away, keeping an eye on her. She is still a little girl, and Stepmother worries she might get into trouble.
     Above, the branches stretch out to make a thin rooftop. She sees a small monster crawl across a branch. It looks like a worm, but as it moves, the bark it goes over changes to blue. Now that spring is here, the woods will discover their colors again.
     She does not know where Father is. She never knows where he is. The village priest tells her she should love him unconditionally, as he loves her, but she does not think he loves her. If he loved her, would he leave like he does? Stepmother is a fine person, but she’s seen how mothers are meant to act and Stepmother doesn’t understand her role.
     “Come along, Jocelyn,” Stepmother calls, keeping her distance still, her arms out beckoning for the girl. She takes a step away from the woods, towards Stepmother’s embrace, but doesn’t turn away from the monsters that lurk within. If you turn away, they know you are afraid.
     The sound of a horse rushing through the forest nearly startles her, but mostly excites her. She runs from both Stepmother and the woods and towards the sound of a visitor. This time of the year it could be anyone.
     Stepmother calls her name again, pulls her skirts away from her ankles, and chases after the girl. The girl is not disappointed to find the visitor has come to deliver the news. He is panting and his horse’s neck is wet. Brandon, a village boy only a year older than her, has already fetched some soap to wipe the beast down. The messenger dismounts happily and leans hard against the staff he had brought strapped across his back. He has no scroll- he’s not just any messenger but a royal one, prized for his memory.
     “Is there a scribe?” he calls into the town. He has stopped his journey in the middle of Waypoint’s square, and people are starting to flood into it to hear what he says.
     An older woman hobbles over to him. It is Meredith, the seamstress’ mother, and behind her are her three beautiful grandsons. The eldest carries a table out for her, the middle one carries a chair, and the youngest, her favorite, holds a quill pen, ink, and paper like they are gold and rubies. The messenger nods his approval as her grandchildren set up her small station, off the right and in the front row, so that she may record.
     “The Castle and the Crown are proud to inform their people of a competition to begin immediately! The Queen’s Ransom is not for the faint of heart. There is a monster in the mountains, hoarding treasure in the heart of the tallest and deepest mountain, and within its trove is a magic mirror. Whoever can retrieve this mirror will receive a vial of enchanted gold that will cure any curse.
     “Anyone can begin the journey immediately, but there are three challenges any contestant much finish before they can hope to defeat the monster in the mountain. First, they must sacrifice their reflection. Second, they must break a promise. Third, they must discover the truth.
     “To begin the quest you are only allowed a knife, seven loaves of bread, and whatever clothes you can fit on your back. You must sleep outdoors, under the stars, and rise and fall with the sun. You are allowed as many companions as you want. You have exactly one week to complete the quest and return the mirror to the queen. The quest ends when the mirror is returned. No sooner.”
     Meredith finishes and looks up. The town is loud with whispers. Stepmother has caught up to the girl and has her hands on her shoulders, keeping the girl from going anywhere. The girl looks up and catch her eye. Stepmother is worried, she thinks, though she do not know why.
     “We can begin immediately?” the blacksmith, George, steps forward.
     The messenger tells him that yes, indeed, he can begin immediately, but that if these things aren’t achieved, the monster in the mountain will surely destroy the man. Then the messenger dismisses himself by mounting his horse suddenly and taking off in the direction of Outpost, the only other town among the trees. Brandon was only half done cleaning the beast and he looks crestfallen at the idea of unfinished work.
     “Come along, Jocelyn,” Stepmother tugs at her shoulders and she follows her steady hands. “Help me prepare supper.”
     The girl does, and wonders at what someone could do with a vial of enchanted gold.
Now, in third person, with the remnants of the voice I was using in the original passage, things come off in a sort of ethereal quality, or at least that's what I've noticed. And I kind of like it. It's not something I could tell the whole story with, I think too much would be lost, but it is something I could still employ in the story.

Since this is a world of fairytales I've wanted to include more of the fairytales in the story. There are only the two in the prologue and one in a dream sequence so far, and I think I would prefer to add more, since there are a lot more that the story could benefit from. I'm debating whether or not to just throw them in between chapters as sorts of breaks or to have the story kind of melt into them. It's something I'm going to have to play around with when I do my next round of editing before I send it out to people to look at.

Sunday, October 16, 2016

*holds head in hands* It's been too long a.k.a. October Writing Goals

So, I haven't posted here in a while because I haven't done a bunch of writing in a while, but I want to pull you up to speed so real quickly:

I did reach my goal last month of finishing my rough draft of TQR so that's great! But I didn't start WaC and didn't write either of the posts I wanted to get to. Okay, that's fine I guess. I did change my goals a bit, and I talked about that at the end of last month. I'm going to spend even more time than I originally planned just working on TQR because it really needs my help which means WaC is being pushed back again.

The goals for this month:

Continue writing "around" the story. I imagine I'll be doing this for several months, but this is the month I'm choosing to focus on it.

Start rewriting the original draft.

That's it for goals. They're really minor, but things will probably be picking up again shortly.