Blah.

I'm on lunch break at work right now. An early break at that. I'm not really too hungry and even if I were, I refuse to pay $4 payroll deduct for what I hear is not too good jambalaya and red beans and rice I should "stay away from." I've checked all 3 of my emails and facebook in about 10 mins. Updates, likes, comments all read and responded where needed. So what now? My RP partner still hasn't responded.. I feel like getting another, but I don't know if I'd like the maintenance. We'll see.

So I thought I'd hack out a blog. At least if I'm putting words on a page, I can feel somewhat productive.

Update from the last blog: I feel like I'm still keeping up with my resolution. I've finished 2 books before the end of January and have started a third. I know I could spend more time reading, but I misplaced the current book I'm on. Heh. good job, right? Anyway, I do feel like the reading had helped me write more. Or at least want to write more. I've come up with a new character: Drucinda. Still trying to work out her backstory. I'm not married to the idea of her alliance yet. I'm thinking antagonist. Or at least shady. Meh, I'll figure it out.

I've also discovered from reading more that simple really is better. I mean, I don't have to swallow a thesaurus in order to get my point across. Sometimes simple really is better. For example, it's better to say "She looked as though she hadn't slept since the news of her son's disappearance." than "She had the sad, tired eyes of a woman who had never stopped crying over her lost son." Or something.

It's sad to think I still haven't found my "voice". I know I wrote a blog about that a few weeks back, but I still feel that way. Maybe I need to enroll some writing classes or invest in some (more) literature. Like a workbook or something. I know there are programs online that will tell you if you're using too many adjectives or whether your writing sounds 'male' or 'female'.

I think I'll need to return to the basics. I felt invincible in high school when I was writing nearly everyday. I just knew I could only get better and I'd have a manuscript once I'd graduated college. Well it's been 5 years since getting my diploma and I still have nothing to show for it. It still stings when I tell people I have an English degree and their immediate response is "Oh, you gonna teach?". Then I explain I have a creative writing concentration and they lose interest. Maybe I need to dedicate an hour to writing. Anything. Everyday. Just write. I'd love to be like "Yes, I have an English degree and I've sent my manuscript to [insert well-known publisher] for review. I expect an answer by the end of the month." For some reason, I imagine myself holding a glass of wine when stating that. Seems so hoity-toity.

Alas, I thought I'd write a story today. But I guess it's just another whine fest about why I'm not successful. Better luck next time, readers.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

ReSOLUTION

Anyone ever wonder why people give up so easily on their new year's resolutions? I mean, here we are, January 15th and I'm sure the gyms have already thinned out and the initial burst of exercise equipment sales or diet shake craze have subsided. But still, there are some people who hold firm to their resolutions.

Me, well, I've always been a lazy bitch who never completes anything (see all failed story ideas/blog posts). It's a wonder I completed college. Still, I'm sticking to mine. So far, at least. I gave up soda once again for 2013 in an attempt to jump start a diet/healthier living for myself. Though I could definitely use a stricter diet to adhere to than "don't be a fatass." Part of that is also wanting to fit into a fierce dress for the ball coming up in Feb.

That's right. Ball. Me. In a formal dress and the whole nine since... My sister's wedding. Should be interesting. Anyway...

One of my other resolutions was to take my writing more seriously. Or, you know, actually do it. This stunning revelation came to me a couple nights ago when Chris and I were laying on the floor in his office. Not what you think. He was sitting on the floor putting together his Megazord (or taking it apart, I'm not really sure) and I crawled down there with him. Anyway, he looked up at my trunk, at the papers and books stacked under his lightsabers and Lego references (can you tell this is a grown man's 'office'?) and asked "What's that really thick book there?"

I looked up at the book in question and instantly recognized it. "My Writer's Market," I answered. He pulled the book out and starting thumbing through it. "Do you even know what it's for?" I asked him.

"Well," he said opening to a random page, "It's got a list of publishers and.. what they print.."

I couldn't help but sigh. I have never used that book. The book I saw for the first time in high school and vowed that I would have when I had a manuscript ready to sell. The book I begged my mom for for Christmas the year I graduated college in an attempt to jump start my career and ease her mind about both her daughters now having liberal art degrees. The book I haven't opened since 2011.

So why do we make resolutions? Do they actually solve anything? It's not the resolution's fault the resolver isn't so resolved.

I really do want to work on my writing. I want to finish something; something I can be proud of. Don't get me wrong: I love writing and I'll do it until I die. I just want... more.

Today, I'm sitting in LSU's union lab with two documents laying in wait in the start bar. I don't know why I prefer this space to my own apartment or the cliched coffee shop. For some reason, I feel more productive in this environment. I'm trying to write Dreamwalker (again). I think I'll make that my big project for 2013. Not to say I'm going to finish it by the end of the year, but I'd like to have a good chunk fleshed out.

I thought by writing a blog I'd have a chance to just freewrite to get the creative juices going. I've also been reading more. If you want to write, you have to read. You have to know what's out there. What's been published. What works. What people read. So I guess that's another resolution: Read more.

That one's going well, surprisingly. I just finished a book I received for Christmas and I'm starting another either today or tomorrow. Maybe the more knowledge I absorb, the more I can produce. Pretty sure that's a scientific law of some sort. Maybe by reading others, I'll find my own voice and be able to stick with something.

There are so many people I know who write with such raw honesty about their human experience on their blogs. I wish I could do that. Truth is, I don't really have much to say. I'm pretty safe when it comes to my day to day life. I don't pick up guys in coffee shops with a flash of my eyes, take him home, fuck his brains out and never hear from him again. I don't have any great tragedy that's forever changed my day to day living. I'm not smart enough to fabricate a story about robots or intricate little devices that haven't been realized in the real world yet. Still, I want that type voice. That voice that just grabs you and says, "Hey! Listen to me, you might learn something."

I wonder what people hear when they read my stuff. What does my voice say? (feel free to comment)

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

The Great One

So I'm bored at work. And I found a way to browse "in private". Which I hope means the boss doesn't have to know. Hehe.

Just because I'm not able to write an entire novel doesn't mean I can't treat y'all to some shorts. Well-- a short. Enjoy:


In those days, we couldn't imagine anything but pain. It was inconcievable to have a child born to our world that would not starve and know suffering. The ancient texts told tale of a once-yellow sun and bright skies, but most were believed to be fables by now. The one thing we still believed in, amazingly, were stories of the Great One; it was our one hope. We had waited for generations for the Great One to return, defeat the evil that kept us bound in darkness, and restore our world to prosperity.

But after years of waiting, I stopped believing. I could see only darkness, only hopelessness. As I looked into the eyes of my baby sister for the first time, so innocent and so pure, I felt nothing but anger. How could something so frail be destined to live the life in store for her? It was a miracle she had survived her first night. The same could not be said for our mother. It was a difficult pregnancy and a grim birth. Still as I held that newborn baby girl in my arms, I knew something needed to change. If the Great One would not return, I vowed to make things better myself.

Eleven years later, nothing had changed. We still lived in squalor, fighting for each breath. The evil that had held us in such a state had not weakened, but redoubled its effort. Many of us were tired of fighting. Too many failed rebellions led some to join the other side. We were not only fighting for our lives, but now we faced an all too familiar enemy: Each other. Though I tried my best to shield her, my sister witnessed horrors unlike any others I had experienced at her age.

She remained innocent. Or as innocent as a child living in our world could be. Her smile had dimmed, but she still believed in the Great One. Her faith was inspirational, though not enough to sway my beliefs.

And then, the towers fell.

"It's a sign!" she screamed as she ran inside from the fury on the streets. I had been repairing the outer wall of our home. She repeated the statement several more times before finding me outside, up to my elbows in the mud-paste I had fashioned for the repair. "Did you hear? The towers have fallen!! They've fallen, Haidren. It's happening, it's finally happening!" She threw her arms arms me, holding me tightly. In eleven years, I had not seen a smile as bright as that one. She looked up at me, her eyes searching for one glimmer of hope in mine. But there was only darkness.

Instead of rejoicing, I questioned her. "What are you talking about?"

Our father followed shortly behind her. In his hands he cradled a wrapped bundle. "It's true," he said as he unwrapped the bundle and revealed a scorched piece of stone. I couldn't believe my eyes. There in my father's hands was a part of the towers that had stood for so long, raining down nothing but destruction. I sank to my knees. "They said those towers were indestructable..."

"But the first sign! You remember the prophecy, Haidren."

I exchanged glances with my father. "They're only words, Rena."

"But it's happening. Right now!"

"It's true, son. People are rejoicing in the streets without fear. I've seen it for myself."

I turned back to the wall. "Those towers have stood for generations. No one's ever been able to bring them down. It's just not possible."