The only reason I'm doing this is that I thought of snarky answers and wanted to use them...
1. Real name: Siobhan McTavish. 2. Nickname(s): Danielle. 3. Favorite color(s): Are you asking me to be a racist? 4. Male or female: I'm half and half, actually. My dad was male, my mom was female, so... 5. Elementary: dear Watson. 6. Middle School: For dwarfs. 7. High School: For giants. 9. Hair Color: Currently, striped. 10. Tall or Short: Middling. 11. Sweats or Jeans: Jeans, they're more versatile. 12. Phone or Camera: Phone; I leave the photos to the paparazzi. 13. Health freak: I once thought I was having a heart attack. 14. Oranges or Apples: Yes, thank you. 15. Do you have a crush on someone: No, the rock missed. 16. Eat or Drink: Neither dehydration nor starvation is particularly high on my to-do list. 17. Piercings: Yep. 18. Pepsi or Coke: Yep. :P19. Been in an airplane: Yep. 20. Been in a relationship: Yep. 21. Been in a car accident: Nope. 22. Been in a fist fight: No, she didn't punch back. 23. First piercing: I was very little. 24. Best friend(s): Inside or outside the family? 25. First award: I've been told I'm an award-winnning slacker. 26. First crush: I killed ants with a pebble. 27. First word: This morning? Probably "coffee...." 29. Last person you talked to: I said "hmm" to Molly. 30. Last person you texted: My brother. 31. Last person you watched a movie with: First I have to remember the last time I watched a movie. 32. Last food you ate: Mac-n-cheese. 33. Last movie you watched: It might have been "Ferris Bueller's Day Off", but I keep thinking I've watching something else since then. 34. Last song you listened to: Live piano. 35. Last thing you bought: Book. 36. Last person you hugged: Probably Christie.
FAVORITE:
37. Food: Edible. 38. Drink: I'm not 21 yet; I'll let you know this summer. 39. Music Genre(s): Variable. 40. Sport: I've turned procrastination into a sport. "How long can I get away with not doing this task?" 41. Animal: I'm quite fond of chicken. So many delicious dishes... 42. Color: I'm a WASP, if you must know. 43. Movie: Quite a few. Texas Chainsaw Massacre impacted me hugely. 44. Subject: My favorite is Sam; he does whatever I tell him to do.
HAVE YOU EVER:(Put an X in the brackets if yes) 45. [/] fallen in love with someone. (Strongly liked.) 46. [] celebrated Halloween. 47. [] had your heart broken. 48. [] went over the minutes/texts on your cell phone. 49. [x]had someone like you. (If I were vain, I'd put an x for each one.) 51. [] went skiing 52. [] jumped off a cliff 53. [x] did something you regret. 54. [x] broke a promise. 55. [x] hid a secret. 56. [x] pretended to be happy. 57. [x] met someone who changed your life. 58. [] pretended to be sick. 59. [] left the country. 60. [x] tried something you normally wouldn't try and liked it. 61. [x] cried over the silliest thing. 62. [x] ran a mile. 63. [x] went to the beach with your best friend. 64. [x] got into an argument with your friends. 65. [x] disliked someone. 66. [] stayed single for 2 years since the first time you had a boyfriend/girlfriend. (Come back in two years and I'll give you an update.) CURRENTLY:67. Eating: No 69. Listening: I detached my ears. 70. Sitting/Laying: Sitting is for people; laying is for hens. 71. Plans for today: Sleep. 72: Waiting for: Godot
YOUR FUTURE: 73. Want kids: I may in the future want kids. 74. Want to get married: You got those questions majorly backward. 75. Career: Diva.
WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL:76. Lips or eyes: I find it disturbing if I look and they're not there. 77. Shorter or Taller: I do notice whether I look down on someone or look up to them. 78. Romantic or spontaneous: How about charming? 81. Hook-up or relationship: I didn't write this questionnaire. 82. Looks or personality: Wealth.
HAVE YOU EVER: 83. Lost glasses/contacts: Yep. 84. Snuck out of a house: Nope. 85. Held a gun/knife for self defense: Nope. 86. Killed somebody: I'll get back to you on that. 87. Broken someone's heart: Information redacted. 88. Been in love: Nope. 89. Cried when someone died: Yep
DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 90. Yourself: Some days I think I'm imaginary... 91. Miracles: It's a miracle I haven't killed my sister yet. 92. Love at first sight: The first mirror I saw, I was a goner. 93. Heaven: Yep. 94: Santa Claus: Why risk the coal? Yep. 95. Aliens: If I say no, will I get abducted? 96. Ghosts: If I say no, will I be haunted? 97. Zombies: And if no to this, will my brains...Haha, forget that one. TRUTHFULLY: 98. Is there one person you really want to be with right now: Yep. 99. Do you know who your real friends are: The voices and I are still arguing about whether Marcie is real or imaginary.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
I like writing.
I really do. Think up a fun character, put him through crazy/stressful/funny things, have him meet crazy/stressful/funny people, pretend I'm the next Newbery Medal winner...
And then I hit a transition scene. Big scene A: Main Character and Da Boss have a conversation, which is going to wind up with MC getting into a fight with That Jerk. But between chat and battle must be a transition. He can't just leap from one to the other. I really really hate that.
He strolls down a street, he's got to stop for a meal, he notes passersby and city sights and waxes philosophical about life, the universe, and everything.
It bores me. It's necessary, which means I need to figure out how to write it so that it'll be short, decently interesting, and MAKE SENSE. And not turn into a description of different bricks in his fireplace wall. And instead of figuring it out, I'm whining on my blog. Nice.
Know what's really pathetic? I know what these transitions need to be. They need to be integral to the story, preferably give a little more sense of this guy, this MC whom I am trying to turn into a guy interesting enough to hold people's attention for 70,000 words or so. I feel like I must have read transitions somewhere that were brilliantly interesting and succinct and brisk. They're just not coming to mind.
Well. I am doing one thing halfway right. I will not write my next scene until I have written the transition leading up to it. Even if Da Boss is going to reveal that he knows the Main Character's big secret, and the MC in return is going to tell him a sad truth about Da Boss's loser son, which will kick off the major plot of the story....
Who am I kidding. That stupid transition can wait.
And then I hit a transition scene. Big scene A: Main Character and Da Boss have a conversation, which is going to wind up with MC getting into a fight with That Jerk. But between chat and battle must be a transition. He can't just leap from one to the other. I really really hate that.
He strolls down a street, he's got to stop for a meal, he notes passersby and city sights and waxes philosophical about life, the universe, and everything.
It bores me. It's necessary, which means I need to figure out how to write it so that it'll be short, decently interesting, and MAKE SENSE. And not turn into a description of different bricks in his fireplace wall. And instead of figuring it out, I'm whining on my blog. Nice.
Know what's really pathetic? I know what these transitions need to be. They need to be integral to the story, preferably give a little more sense of this guy, this MC whom I am trying to turn into a guy interesting enough to hold people's attention for 70,000 words or so. I feel like I must have read transitions somewhere that were brilliantly interesting and succinct and brisk. They're just not coming to mind.
Well. I am doing one thing halfway right. I will not write my next scene until I have written the transition leading up to it. Even if Da Boss is going to reveal that he knows the Main Character's big secret, and the MC in return is going to tell him a sad truth about Da Boss's loser son, which will kick off the major plot of the story....
Who am I kidding. That stupid transition can wait.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Grey Days
Sunshine and pines trees
go very well together.
Springtime and soft rain's a
perfect kind of weather.
Beach and blue skies and
windy days for a kite;
but grey days and adventures
somehow seem right.
When the wind's in the trees
and the sky lowers down,
when the colors are muted
and the leaves overblown,
when you feel gypsy restless
and the stars seem too near,
then the day must be grey
and adventure be near.
go very well together.
Springtime and soft rain's a
perfect kind of weather.
Beach and blue skies and
windy days for a kite;
but grey days and adventures
somehow seem right.
When the wind's in the trees
and the sky lowers down,
when the colors are muted
and the leaves overblown,
when you feel gypsy restless
and the stars seem too near,
then the day must be grey
and adventure be near.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Who am I
that you know my name?
What am I
that you know my being?
What causes you,
ineffable giver of life,
to cast your eyes on a filthy clod
of dirt, breathing dirt,
like me--
and raise me up
and cry
to turn me from mud
to clay
to pristine vase?
I fear the fire
I fear the molding,
I fear the forming of my soul.
But I know--
deep inside I know--
the joy of the potter's own.
I have seen, I have envied,
I have not dared to grasp.
But I don't need to.
You grasp.
I need only to be pliant
and to know that you are God.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Song of the Hermit
“Come home, come home!”
They call to me.
But I have wandered far too long
To give up being free.
“Return, O child,
And sit at home!
Return to the arms
Of our glad company!”
But I am used to being alone
And find I’m sufficient for me.
What need have I of mortal men
When I have found the mystic glen?
Why venture where the mad crowds dwell
When I have found the hidden dell?
“Return! Come home!”
They call to me,
But their voices grow so dim.
I do not heed, for I wander on,
Far from the haunts of men.
They call to me.
But I have wandered far too long
To give up being free.
“Return, O child,
And sit at home!
Return to the arms
Of our glad company!”
But I am used to being alone
And find I’m sufficient for me.
What need have I of mortal men
When I have found the mystic glen?
Why venture where the mad crowds dwell
When I have found the hidden dell?
“Return! Come home!”
They call to me,
But their voices grow so dim.
I do not heed, for I wander on,
Far from the haunts of men.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
I would say this is the lazy way to post
but this blog post by another young lady (total stranger, sadly) was far too good not to share. I know some who stop by this blog (if they haven't given it up as defunct!) aren't on Facebook, which is where I found the post.
http://gracefortheroad.com/2012/02/03/idontwait/
http://gracefortheroad.com/2012/02/03/idontwait/
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Random writing
Someday, I might actually write this into a story properly. But for now, it's just a random scene that popped into my head.
Haylan swam slowly out to meet them, his dark eyes flickering from Lotan to Harod.
“Did we scare you so much?” Lotan chuckled. “Did you think we were spirits?”
Haylan reddened. “Of course not.”
“But you were scared,” Harod said. “Because we’re humans?”
“There’s nothing frightening about humans,” Haylan said scornfully. “No, for a moment, I thought instead…”
They waited a moment for him to continue, before Lotan prompted, “Thought what?”
Haylan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you were water women.”
In chorus, they asked, “Water women?”
“You don’t know what they are?” They shook their heads. Haylan stared at them incredulously, and then turned and swam back to the bank.
“Well, what are they?” Lotan demanded.
Haylan caught at a bush and dragged himself onto the grass. “River demons.” Harod shivered in the water, and splashed to shore. Haylan made room for him on the bank and then continued mysteriously, “They appear as the most beautiful sylphs a man can imagine, with voices sweeter than harps and eyes like the moon on a fair night. And they sing. Whatever it is your heart dreams about, they sing. To a miser, they sing of gold; to a soldier, of fame and glory; to a lonely soul, of everlasting love.”
“Demons indeed,” Lotan grinned. “I’d give a fair price to have a beautiful woman sing to me of my dreams.”
“But they’re demons all the same,” Haylan whispered. “No faery dares approach the river when the water women sing.”
Fascinated, Harod dropped his voice also. “Why not?”
Haylan smiled grimly. “Because they’ll drag you under the waters and eat you.”
Haylan swam slowly out to meet them, his dark eyes flickering from Lotan to Harod.
“Did we scare you so much?” Lotan chuckled. “Did you think we were spirits?”
Haylan reddened. “Of course not.”
“But you were scared,” Harod said. “Because we’re humans?”
“There’s nothing frightening about humans,” Haylan said scornfully. “No, for a moment, I thought instead…”
They waited a moment for him to continue, before Lotan prompted, “Thought what?”
Haylan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you were water women.”
In chorus, they asked, “Water women?”
“You don’t know what they are?” They shook their heads. Haylan stared at them incredulously, and then turned and swam back to the bank.
“Well, what are they?” Lotan demanded.
Haylan caught at a bush and dragged himself onto the grass. “River demons.” Harod shivered in the water, and splashed to shore. Haylan made room for him on the bank and then continued mysteriously, “They appear as the most beautiful sylphs a man can imagine, with voices sweeter than harps and eyes like the moon on a fair night. And they sing. Whatever it is your heart dreams about, they sing. To a miser, they sing of gold; to a soldier, of fame and glory; to a lonely soul, of everlasting love.”
“Demons indeed,” Lotan grinned. “I’d give a fair price to have a beautiful woman sing to me of my dreams.”
“But they’re demons all the same,” Haylan whispered. “No faery dares approach the river when the water women sing.”
Fascinated, Harod dropped his voice also. “Why not?”
Haylan smiled grimly. “Because they’ll drag you under the waters and eat you.”
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