thought of the day

I hope never to write an anticlimactic novel. They are quite depressing. You’ll go days or weeks investing yourself in a novel, getting excited or scared at all the right parts, and then they’ll end on the brother’s cousin’s niece who supposedly saved the kingdom from utter peril, even though it’s what the protagonist has worked for all his life. Blah. My real problem is if they build up this whole beautiful romance that I’ve put my heart and soul into and they close it with an offhand word and the couple doesn’t even kiss! Stupid, stupid, stupid! If there is going to be any kind of romance in the first place, a novel should end with either a kiss or death, depending on the emotion to be evoked in the reader. Personally, I prefer a kiss, but that’s just me. If I ever write an anticlimactic ending that puts the romantic aspect out in the cold, I want someone to personally come and smack me with something hard near the back, flat region of my head. If you would be so kind.

life, the universe and everything

Do you have any idea how insanely exciting it is to go to a writing symposium, meet your favorite author and have him tell you he likes the concept for your novel? I bet you don't! But let me tell you from experience that it is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. Yes, this happened to me this past weekend.
I attended Life, the Universe and Everything, the science fiction and fantasy symposium at the Wilkinson Center (hereafter called "the Wilk" as it is termed) which was really neat to begin with. The classes and panels were excellent. I wish I could have spent more time at the symposium, but I had this pesky little thing called college going on. Who invented that?
I learned about everything from collaboration with editors to the science of magic. I also went to an internet advertising class that is making me question every thing I write down here.
It might interest you to know that I spent the better part of an hour writing the beautiful tale of what happened in the first paragraph, but read it back over and realized, "Calise, no one cares." If you do care, I feel loved and you can comment or email me for the whole story.
The good news is, I've gotten my second wind...or eighth breeze, really, and I have a great determination to press onward now. I'm going to get published. I'm going to be a novelist and be a great influence for good in the world. This is my dearest ambition.
Oh, I should tell you, I've come up with my own personal mission statement of why I am supposed to write. Are you ready?
In writing I desire to illuminate life, to help people come to the wonderful knowledge I've been blessed with--that we can be happy here on earth despite the nasty things that happen. I truly believe that. I also want to find beauty in unexpected places.
That sounds pretty good, huh? sstm Well, it makes me happy anyway. Do you like the word "illuminate?" I worked a long time trying to put my finger on that one.
So, once again, life is good. I'm going to write and do what I love and go to school so I can make book to movie adaptions better than Eragon and life will still be good. Although I did get rejected by a guy this weekend. *Ouch*

college and way too many thoughts on writing

Well, I feel like it's been forever since I posted and, essentially, it has. It's amazing what can happen in just a few weeks. I'm a college girl now, true blue through and through, and like my sister always told me, college is both harder and more fun than you would ever imagine. You have what feels like the most fun you've ever had one day and the next you're bawling, wishing to go home...metaphorically speaking of course. Overall, it's great and I'm really beginning to enjoy it. But what I really wanted to confide in this great expanse they call the internet, is how absolutely terrified I am about something else. I change focuses quickly, I know.
Last night, on my way home from Aerobic Dance where I became buff, my dear, sweet mother called me (or maybe I called her...that's really beside the point) and informed me that my writing mentor--Valerie Clark, a published author who sort of took me under her wing--had called. Ms. Valerie, as I call her, told Mom that one of the publishers she's in contact with is looking to represent more authors of young adult novels and Valerie wanted to recommend me. I almost fell down in the snow (it's below zero outside btw and I have a terrible cold which may be turning into bronchitis and I need to go to the clinic tomorrow) because I was so astounded. I mean, it may not actually come to anything, but it gave me hope. I'm coming up on my third anniversary with Ellic. March 2nd. It'll be epic. That means that March 2nd, 2004 I began a journey with a boy who was far from your average protagonist. He wasn't cool and he wasn't anybody's hero, but he was genuine. He was charming and you could feel it radiate from him when you read him...or at least I could. Really, that's the problem. I know Ellic but I can't seem to get him down on paper. He's there, I can feel him. He's my best friend. I know that sounds really dramatic...really, really dramatic...and I'm kind of embarrassed to actually post all this because it sounds cheesy, but isn't that what a good writer does? Puts herself into her writing to the point of awkwardness then hangs it out to dry for everyone to look at? This is a really random tangent to go off on in this post. I was originally just going to say "I have to do some rewrites and I'm scared," but it didn't really turn out that way. Anyway, I just want my writing to be my voice again, like the voice I use here in my blog. It's just me and it's different and you can tell. I want my characters and plot to be magic for me again. That's all. I think I'm in for a long weekend.

*sigh* the supernal joy of writer's block

I don't know if you've ever experienced anything as painfully exciting as sitting at a computer with a blank sheet of paper before you and absolutely nothing to put on it. I can only compare it to trying to push hair out of your head. You push and squeeze and bear down, and yet nothing will burn holes in that unbearable white canvas before you. I wish I could put a happy ending on this story, but unfortunately I don't have one yet. I don't know how to push writing out of my gut any more than my own organs. Everything I've ever read on writer's block (and believe me, I've read a lot) has said there's really no such thing as writer's block, or that you just have to push through it until writing becomes easy again, though it's never really easy. Perhaps I haven't tried everything I could to break through my clot. All I know is that I haven't written anything really good in probably six months and writing hasn't flowed for me in about a year and a half. And now it's almost two in the morning. I'm exhausted and I have to get up before seven. Why am I blogging about writer's block at two am? I honestly have no idea. Perhaps in the hope that one of these days it'll strike me in the middle of the night. BLAM - The perfect story idea. Well, as Catherine O'Hara said, "Nighttime is really the best time to work. All the ideas are there to be yours because everyone else is asleep." Hopefully the same will be true of me.