tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27937360407859948672024-02-07T12:36:09.642-08:00Voices of the FutureIt doesn't matter who we are, we all have a voice to say. This is where we can say who we are. We are artists with a purpose and that purpose is to share our talents with the rest of the world. This is my story and I would like to share it with you as along with other authors.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-25792209689145815412014-04-18T00:16:00.002-07:002014-04-18T00:16:47.788-07:00All Most There...I Can See The End.I'm exhausted...and I still have a short paper to write for a class. Next week is break for me and as much as I want to sit and do nothing my mind knows there are too many things to accomplish. For example, all of the mundane tasks. On top of all of my tasks is planning my wedding reception with Mom, so that should be fun. Monday is another doctor's visit. Friday is another treatment. Another poem to write for American Poetry--here I go!<br />
<br />
Cancer Waltz<br />
<br />
You talk a mean talk, hanging out there,<br />
you watch others suffer and you laugh<br />
while you work your dirty, dirty deed.<br />
I must admit, you gave me a scare,<br />
when you'd given me your autograph<br />
though I resisted and tried to pluck your seed.<br />
Hark! I've done it!<br />
Look at you, you little shrew,<br />
Your discolored texture reveals nothing<br />
but the hook you bit.<br />
Wait, you've returned to chew?<br />
Where's my sword? You're not king<br />
You come as a small mass<br />
But you're still a pain in the ass<br />
And I'll win you little bass.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-24972472676195003102014-04-14T14:57:00.000-07:002014-04-14T14:57:02.520-07:00Indian Fire AntsAnd the glow of the fire burns the night<br />
as small black creatures emerge;<br />
from the core of the red light,<br />
shaking a young child, her thoughts diverge;<br />
to arrows unseen by the naked eye,<br />
creatures that give no love<br />
yet they choose not to die.<br />
A woman with arms smooth as a dove<br />
presents a blanket unlike any other<br />
to her frightened daughter...a bear one,<br />
as she curls up to her mother<br />
who instructs her to hang it over the sun.<br />
The bear will eat the foe<br />
and rescue the little doe.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-8434835669908527462014-01-17T17:22:00.001-08:002014-01-17T17:22:56.014-08:00I fight because I have to fight, and I always win.I'd thought I didn't have to face another round of chemotherapy, but sometimes wishes don't always come true. My mind faces many things that are hard to understand, yet my heart continues to say, "You can do this. Don't give up. Fight for another day." Then I smile and rise to the challenge. School's around the road, graduation will soon be upon me, and I won't fail. I will accept anything that may dishearten everyone else, but not me. Granted, there will be days where I will not want to be around people--forgive me when those days come. A lot is going on in my mind, which not everyone can or will understand. Some days will be moody. Be kind. That's all I ask.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-57447470627636906472013-12-03T18:16:00.001-08:002013-12-03T18:16:42.863-08:00Language is Everything: Wogan's view on Writing<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Language is in everything. It is verbal.
It is written in poems, novels both fiction and nonfiction, on Billiton boards
and street signs, and even in a unique way, language is unspoken and written.
There is a saying that “a picture is worth a thousand words”. Pictures can say
a whole lot if one simply takes the time to examine a photographer’s or an artist’s
work. As a class we have seen language used in many different ways that forms of
any language can go beyond ordinary symbols, grammar, and form.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Language provides expressing feelings,
as an art through literature, and communication among people. Language is a
concatenation; it has an interconnection with words—transforming people into
culture. Writing is one form that involves personal and public records.
Journals, though there are individual ones, have a form to them. Journals are
just one example of how language is used in a private sector. Governmental
documentation, religious rituals, and family history all require some sort of linguistic
structure to properly function. Governments in every country uses phonological
ways to promote themselves to a particular position in that specific
government.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Language whether spoken or written is also
a means of communicating between teacher and student, school administer and the
teacher, etc. etc. Success in school depends on language as well as everything
else in life. In order to succeed, students need to stay in constant
communication with their instructors, so they can continue knowing what they
are expected to accomplish in a short period of time. Teachers must be in
contact with administrators, more so in the lower education part. Administrators
have to or should know exactly what is going on in the classroom and offer help
to the teacher, if it is necessary. Otherwise, there will be conflict within
the school system. Teachers cannot run their classroom without the
administrators involving themselves with what they actual criteria is, educate
what is like to be in a class full of students and not just stand out giving
orders, and talk with the parents about what is being taught to their children.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">From the various texts used in my Anthropology class,
language controls not just the matrix of life, but it also has a matrix within
itself. We are the participants in this game. To further establish how we are
as a chess piece in the game of language, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Magical
Writing in Salasaca </i>explores the importance of writing. The Salasacans
understand what writing means to their people. In the beginning of the novel,
the idea of a “God’s book” comes into play. Wogan’s editor Edward Fischer added
in the series editor preface that although the friend of a friend relates his
story of going to “a hell-like place and on to Heaven, where God checked his
book…” this should not be dismissed as an “apocryphal story inspired by
religious fervor” (xi). Instead, Mr. Fischer points out, this novel should be
seen as what Wogan tries to bring up in his points about how writing is a form
of “…state control, techniques of surveillance and documentation, and the nexus
of power and literacy” (xi).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Wogan begins his tale of the people in
Salasaca of visiting the woman who was one of the three sisters who were in
charge of the witch-saint San Gonzalo’s books. He goes into personal detail
about having to “pore over for twenty minutes” just to search for he and
another man, Jorge’s, name in the book after the daughter of the woman brought
back nine books filled with names of people requesting San Gonzalo’s services
(34). However, the search for their names were futile, until the woman told
them to stop, get up, and left the home. She brought back “a much more
impressive” book that is “a foot high, heavy and made with sturdy, blue covers
and large, lined paper” within it (35). Within the book, discovered by the
daughter, both Jorge and Wogan had their names written among others.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Wogan, Peter. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Magical Writing in Salasaca.</i> Westview Press. 2004. Print.</span></div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-27105914325517515212013-11-09T11:57:00.003-08:002013-11-09T12:00:15.256-08:00Excerpt from TGS<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Some people have called me a “Dark Angel.”</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Perhaps those people were right.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
I
woke, remembering a dream from the night before. Pictures of frightened children
lingered in my mind as I approached them with a hunger unsated by mundane
appetites. I recalled how flesh smelled: sweet. The texture was tender, yet it
was bitter to the taste. Blood was messy and dripped down my chin. The demon,
the cold-blooded monster mingled with my DNA: a gift from one of my parents
brought to daylight by evil people.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
Thanks
Mom and Dad for the evil of which you succumbed me to. I never thought parents
could be that cruel to have given their child to a society of evil scientists.
Thanks for giving me the blessing of having nightmares haunt me after my
escape. Thanks for not being there when I needed you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
I
turned my head to an object in my hand underneath one out of many pillows. I
twirled the small dagger with my fingers, pulling the blade out of its sheath
without another thought. While examining the Celtic knot design on the blade, I
slowly took deep breaths to try to calm my mind. There wasn’t any reason to
fear anymore.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-72208835230023254822013-09-23T20:43:00.001-07:002013-09-23T20:43:18.722-07:00The Story Continues...TSC coverThe second book in the Demon-Gods' War series has found a home! It also has a very wicked cover.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>A</i><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> new threat is
about to be unleashed... A little choice can tip the balance between loyalty
and betrayal.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The half-demon, half-goddess
Raylene Greyson thought a vacation to Germany was fine. Until Trackers come
searching for someone, and involves a small child. An old fear returns, forcing
our heroine to make a choice. Would she return to Saain? Or continue to run?
Then all hell breaks loose when a woman named Rilanja appears. Liberi Olympus
wants the hybrid to themselves, but Cain has other plans for the heroine. The Greysons
are once again dragged into it despite Raylene’s protest. A life is taken while
another discovers that he’s one of Heaven’s Guardians. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">In the meantime, Luccas
confronts his past and a promise that he’d made. Now he will have to choose to
keep it or drop it. However, love has overpowered him. What he doesn’t know, is
Cain is preparing. More will be at stake than a simple promise. He will test
his newfound emotion against all odds. The only cost . . . Raylene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Their journey will run into
some old and new friends. However, can they be trusted? Life for the two heroes
couldn’t get any worse. Until Raylene meets someone who she’d thought vanished
from her life a long time ago…her father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-1560812853932560062013-09-20T19:17:00.001-07:002013-09-20T19:17:40.617-07:00Even in the worst days you stand.I've been thinking a lot lately about personal matters. School's begun, another novel is coming although I'm beginning to see how hard it is to write with another person, but it is still one of the best experiences I have. The main thing is we both learn from each other. What our personal strengths and weaknessess are as writers.<br />
<br />
Besides that, I'd thought that I would be finished with my battle and everything will be honky dory but alas, things sometimes don't always come as you expect them to. I have another surgery next week. My strength is down, but I will never give into something so stupid as cancer. I'm doing all that I can to defeat this dumb disease and will beat it at whatever cost.<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-23956054116700670292013-07-19T22:27:00.003-07:002013-07-19T22:27:36.822-07:00Seeing the End of a Rough JourneySo, last time I'd mention about my personal journey with a battle of cancer. That part of having to have chemotherapy is almost over. These past weeks have been a struggle, but there have been amazing people who've helped along the way with jokes and new people that I've met not only while I continue fighting, but people who are currently in the same war as I. To those people, thank you for reminding me that people in numbers really are a strength. Cancer comes in many forms, and although mine is breast, there is a sense of having understanding that You are never alone in your fight. THERE IS ALWAYS A HAND to guide you through this difficult time. Cancer is nothing but a coward, and it deserves to be treated as such, so chase it away.<br />
<br />
Now that I'm closer to the end of my personal journey, I can turn around and be a light to those who have just began their struggle. To tell them that cancer isn't something to be feared; it is another test to prove once again how strong you are. Not everyone, this is my personal believe, can face a disease--cancer, there, I've said it. A cowardly and powerless one.<br />
<br />
One of the biggest things that is the most important is a strong rely upon my savior, Jesus Christ. There have been nights when I've felt powerless, afraid, unsure, and doubt sank to the bone. Sleep fled. Wondering if you'll wake the next day preoccupied thoughts. But, with a foundation in a God of Mercy, I will rise triumphantly. No matter what.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-4108773047919025462013-05-20T14:52:00.003-07:002013-05-20T14:52:51.385-07:00Standing Strong in the Face of AdversaryToday, I began my treatment every week. The chemo isn't as strong as the first round, but it is still enough to kill cells. This morning, I could not imagine going through more rounds of chemo. Why couldn't the cancer just vanish? My mind pouted, knees crumbled onto the floor, and heart reminded God how much I hated admitting traveling through a rough trial. Trials don't always disappear overnight. There are reasons why trials are given to those better suited for them. Or, in my case sometimes, I need trials to remind me to remain humble and allow help when offered. Just one tough lesson to learn after another, and life will continue to throw curve balls until you learn how to catch them. My favorite is catching and throwing a ball back at whatever comes my way. OK, so there are still personal fears to overcome, but those are slowly decimating.<br />
<br />
This morning was so much easy to just stay in bed. Some days it is hard to rise from ashes like a grand phoenix. When that phoenix rises, my day is so much better. Suddenly, I have a surge of new-found energy that I have no idea where it comes from. One thing that I do know is is how much people including friends and family love me. They're praying or sending positive energy to help heal this element without much to their knowledge. I thank them.<br />
<br />
Another thing that makes chemotherapy easier to handle is the medical staff. I hate to brag, but I have the best team in Turlock. The staff takes care of me very well. Today, I had opportunity to share some of my experiences with another patient who began her treatment this morning. The nurse actually asked me, so I said I would. It is always interesting to get to know someone over some related thing or when opportunity arises. I just need to learn how to better use chances to share with what I know to benefit someone else's life. My desire is to bless others' lives with the best I can and have. I want to tell people that it is OK to admit when life is hard, but to stand back on your feet even in the deepest of water. That is where true strength lies. I just needed a reminder.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-33099422836105967592013-04-24T14:35:00.000-07:002013-04-24T14:35:24.015-07:00My battle on Cancer--still going and still writing.Another round of chemo today and off to class! Essay finished, life is good, and a new manuscript is underway. Six months of hacking the piece into a product of imagination. This new manuscript is coming a while. Feels like I have to do a lot of research to see what I can and cannot do far as technology for the future. Just mostly what is in the works. Yeah, learning how to create a worthwhile scifi novel is a bit of a challenge, but it will be awesome because I have a co-author who although he thinks he will produce worthless work, but he will be wonderful now that he has what I've given him and an idea what to do. He'll be awesome; I have confidence in him whether he knows it or not.<br />
<br />
Speaking of novels and such. The Demon-Gods War trilogy is on the back burner currently due to a few things. All three manuscripts are completed, so that's a plus. Been working on various issues with the series on a whole. Experience with cancer and having to be poked with many needles seem to fit the bill with a character within the DGW trilogy. Hmm, now to add a bit of humor. I hope the nurses won't mind me quoting them.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-18366455698346660972013-04-11T09:18:00.000-07:002013-04-11T09:44:11.790-07:00Don't be Afraid to Say the C word--Battle with CancerI have been diagnosed with stage 3b cancer a week before my 26th birthday. A lump was discovered in the right breast. While waiting for the diagnosis, my heart became heavy. I knew what the answer was. Cancer is not a respector of persons. Cancer will claim anyone at any age. Now, it claimed me. MY turn to join others who also fought and who are fighting. The "Pink Army" continues to fight and so shall I. Did I happen to mention that pink is not a favorite color?<br />
<br />
One of the things that bother me is how little understanding what it is like to go through chemo. The first is for me, and what I am experiencing is it is all right to admit how scared I am. Crying does not come naturally for me; I am not a crier. Never have fear gripped around my heart so strongly in any experience than discovering cancer. Anger swollowed common sense, questioning God on why he would allow a rough trial to come upon me. What lesson did He mean to give me? Was I not trying hard enought to follow His commandments? Indeed, perfection is a hard thing to ask of an imperfected being easily tempted by the Adversary. But I try. For what little faith I do have, I will give it to my heavenly father in exchange with help for my unblief.<br />
<br />
I watched as the red chemo traversed out of the source, through the small tubular link to my new friend named "The Tick with a Tail" or what is called a port. The nurse administering my medication laughed. "I have never heard someone call that before," she said. Well, she had a writer in her mist. I think I personally would have been insulted, but that is just me.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I reflect on this experience and while sitting here in class thinking what to write for this prompt,
my mind cannot come to terms with having short hair. For one, having short hair
is out of my comfort level. I want to reach back for a ponytail—the one secured
thing about being a female. Years of long hair, summers of always putting it
back, and just arguing with Mom about getting it cut as a child. Not going to
lie, having my hair this short feels a bit degraded, but at least I get to have
fun spiking it after chemo when it grows back. Yeah, a positive about having
hair is the ability to regrow it. After all, it is just hair. There are worse
things to lose than hair.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-60773551756030048622013-03-26T12:58:00.001-07:002013-03-26T12:58:00.783-07:00Keep it Real by Lee Gutkind PromptOh, the chapter on using family members as characters. I guess what I can use as a response to a classmate's presentation is to discuss the event where my fiance and I hadn't told my parents we were engaged. Oops, probably should have told them that night where he proposed in front of the Provo Temple. Oh well, now they know and no big deal except they (at least my mother) already knew and were waiting for the man to grow balls just to ask. OK, might not be exactly what the case was, but it still makes a good story for later, I tell myself. Need funny stories every once in a while, no?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-49333271821280826902013-03-26T09:33:00.000-07:002013-03-26T09:33:46.602-07:00Creative Nonfiction PromptOh regret, how much do I hate having you around. Even while traveling through a fiery trial whether large or small, you regret things that you don't have any control over, and it is a heavy burden to bear. Sometimes, you wonder, "what have I done or haven't done to deserve this?" Regret is harmful and although I am not a hundred percent if this will work for class, I don't regret that I am battling cancer. Nor do I regret having bruises on my left arm where the nurses dug and twisted in veins. Just makes a good story later, so might as well enjoy the moment. Throughout my young life (soon to be 26 years), there have been worse things, and I don't regret passing through those trials. Just remember:<br />
<br />
<img src="http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/579267_442172815867820_907106899_n.jpg" />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-40073622005546014262013-03-09T13:18:00.000-08:002013-03-09T13:18:38.013-08:00Branching Out of the FantasyRemember me talking about that if I wanted to write nonfiction that I had to learn the trade? Okay, so those might not be the exact words, but they are close. I decided to take on the romance genre of reading. Don't get any ideas that that includes erotic because thinking that is a mistake. There are romantic novels without any of those scenes. Of course, not to forget that there are some, if done right, scenes that go over my head because they are so rooted into the novel that I don't notice them. Maybe it is the naive personality deep within me...who knows. Kind of sad that I can read something for class and totally miss a certain scene until it is pointed out by a classmate.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-804705573898167542013-03-08T11:14:00.004-08:002013-03-08T14:27:59.287-08:00Subgenres in Creative Nonfiction<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“A slew of subgenres come together to make up that
big hodgepodge that is creative nonfiction. Memoir, personal essay, narrative
journalism, the poetic or lyric essay, travel and adventure essays, literary
journals, nature and environment writing, profiles, the nonfiction novel,
cultural critiqus, and even some reviews all come under its heading. Yet much
creative nonfiction falls under more than one of these subcategories. Go into
your standard bookstore and you rarely find a section expressly for creative nonfiction.
These books are scattered all over the store, by subject; they’re found under
sociology, architecture, travel, political science, and on and on—and often
they don’t quite belong there. A memoir about a child who travels widely across
several continents might end up in travel, biography. African American studies,
essay—who knows?” (Hesse 2).<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Hesse’s explanation of what makes up
the genre creative nonfiction involves more than an essay or a memoir. Creative
nonfiction “falls under more than one of these subcategories” when looked in a
microscopic point of view (2). There cannot be just one or two in any genre. If
the world of nonfiction had two subcategories and a writer creates a nonfiction
piece that fits to one of these subgenres, the academic world as well as the innovative
side will only produce a cookie cutter effect. The effect is dull,
non-informational, not unique, and will lack the most important part of the
opportunity of creation. Imagine that there are just two genres in the art of
nonfiction. Either the cookie cutter will be like a previous work or a
rebellion in the art will begin. If there is not a rebellion, the freedom of
the press is jeopardized. However, if there were a chance for innovation, many
genres will make up the nonfiction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As there are subgenres in fiction,
having many subgenres in creative nonfiction is essential. In order to avoid
the cookie cutter effect, each writer has his or her personal touch to a
specific work while trying to remain true to the facts. Writers, if not all, of
creative nonfiction desire and specialize in a variety of works. There are
books on many topics that are “scattered all over” a bookstore for readers who
have different interest than the person next to them (2). When a reader walks
into a bookstore, a peak of interest is in that person’s mind. A reader who
loves to learn about a specific person comes into the store and heads towards a
subject about that specific person. In some cases, that book can be a memoir or
a collection of essays about that person the reader is fascinated in and pick
it up to read. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Books in general speak about many topics
whether fiction or nonfiction. Subgenres need to exist. How would anyone know
what subject to find if there were one general theme? To look at it a
scientific point of view, humans are under the Mammalia family, but scientists
know that when looking at just the human family, they call humans, <i>Homosapians</i>. Creative nonfiction is the
broader family in the literature sense. Literary journals, memoirs, essays,
novels, and other works have their own species within the nonfiction family.
When broken down further, these works are place within another family or topic.
These works are not cookie cutter works. They are individuals that make up the
field of nonfiction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-14028722621153240482013-03-05T11:53:00.003-08:002013-03-05T11:53:31.602-08:00Life is a journey so have fun with it.Who would've thought that coming to Turlock would change a young Californian into something else? Not much has changed transferring from a grape vineyard city to a small orchard town. I've always been in the valley, so I'm familiar with it from Sacramento to Los Angelas with minor forgetfulness with the smaller communities around the area. Have patience with me, I still have forty-years or so to learn.<br />
<br />
Speaking of learning--Wow, learning how Creative Nonfiction came to be from the 1960's to now is interesting. Now to figure out how to present what I decided to talk about to the rest of the class. Never had to connect my laptop into a system where it projects onto a bigger screen. I knew there's a plug but didn't have to call upon it before now.<br />
<br />
I suppose that if I desire to be an universal writer, I will have to come to terms with this subject (nonfiction) and play with the rules like other writers who know about this subject far better than me. Wouldn't hurt to ask those particular writers what techniques they use and why they use them.<br />
<br />
Yes, I am jumping all over this page. Welcome to my mind, where a whole lot of nothing try and find a way to make sense of what the world gives me.<br />
<br />
I guess I should end this; I'm in my creative nonfiction class, so my professor might not be happy if she knew I'm blogging instead of paying attention--talk about serious ADD action (not actually ADD). On the flip side, I think this counts for what we're learning in class. Maybe she'll give me some slack. Who knows.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-6055927326596746432013-02-15T12:23:00.000-08:002013-02-15T12:23:24.702-08:00My Experience at LTUEFirst of all, the panelists were AMAZING! Wait, let me back up and draw out where I am. I am at LTUE, which is a writer's symposium here in Utah. I have never been to one of these conventions where I have opportunity to have other authors who have been through rugged terrain and understand what it is like to be a new writer. Becoming a writer is not an easy task. Not everyone can become one, and it does not come over night. The hardest part on a writer's journey, in my opinion is learning that making mistakes is OK. My writing isn't perfect--try reading the first draft, yet my writing comes over time. Yes, I have been writing since fourteen, but this does not mean I know what I am doing. The craft itself is a process. Some day, I will become or think to become writers as in Brandon Sanderson, Anne McCaffrey, an so forth. I am on the right track and love every minute of it. I cannot wait to watch myself grow in the writing field.<br />
<br />
Back to LTUE, learned so much that I cannot put everything into a single paragraph. Of course, if I do then there wouldn't be a reason to continue on with the next one. This morning, I had the pleasure of pitching my second story to a publisher. Also, this morning in a workshop, panelists talked about what makes The Hunger Games successful and along with some of the negatives to what could have been better had the author decided to use them. From hearing other authors talk about a book, it is okay to have different tastes and pleasures that comes out of reading books. I have those tastes, as well but don't get into it. And the muse just went on a tangent...come back, muse. You're not finished with this blog. OK, you are...have it your way. Till next time, and if muse returns...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-21222799191695648862013-02-09T11:54:00.002-08:002013-02-09T11:54:33.001-08:00Another School YearBeen really, really busy this semester with classes and personal life. OK, mostly with classes. Where do I begin? Well, I guess the beginning will suffice--yeah, that will do.<br />
<br />
School is absolutely amazing this term. I have the chance to be a part of the English department's publication of <em>Penumbra</em> which is a journey in itself. Lots of editing and such so glad to be on the team although it takes most of my time with reading submissions and deciding what goes and what stays for another round. This round is a little bit difficult--ton of awesome stories--no idea where to sift through this stack.<br />
<br />
In writing, I completed the third to the Demon-Gods War trilogy but am working on finding an editor (they are expensive). The Glass Serpent has a second edition but have not found a way to have it republished through the same company...shoot. Sad that a small company I had found last year is not doing anymore publications for a while...back to the drawing board. Anyone have any ideas where to look?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-70626847359429766022013-01-02T15:19:00.001-08:002013-01-02T15:19:11.881-08:00Welcoming 2013Another year to make a difference in not only in my life but in someone else's as well. Many projects are currently in the works. My family is amazing outside of some rifts, but they are still amazing and supportive with my choices. I have amazing friends who help bring forth goals into fruitation and many thanks to them for staying with me along with forgiving the mistakes. No worries, more will come during the new year. Just will have to see if any of the previous ones have been learned and resolved.<br />
<br />
So, what is going on in my life? Well, winter break has settled in, yet now I am ready for school to begin. Maybe it is because I am so close to finishing it is intense. I also have someone who is a part of my life, and I hope he will choose that he will continue to be a part of my life through the rough and smoothe tides in the future. During this break, I have moved in with an older couple in one of the back rooms. It is a blessing to have someone open their home even if it is for a semester.<br />
<br />
That is my life at the moment. Ready for school and another publication, but those have to come slowly. Cannot rush into things just yet or else will be severely burned. I am excited for the classes that will come next semester. Many wonderful things shall be pressed into the mind for future endeavours. Adventure is just around the corner, but why can't it come quickly and be done with?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-73458340251748405782012-12-16T22:58:00.000-08:002012-12-16T22:58:35.721-08:00End of the year postI know this is a little bit early, but I could not help but to begin thinking back on this year. I must confess that I had no idea where this year would take me. My first year at an university is under my belt. Mistakes have been made and learned from as a new career began to sprout into a fruit bearing tree someday. Two new manuscripts to TGS are completed with a fourth yet the beginning of another series underway. Next year, more exciting things are coming that are currently in the works.<br />
<br />
The first on the list is finding a home for TGS2. I have an idea where that will go, so we'll see what happens with it.<br />
<br />
The second is graduation. Although the plan is to be finished in December of 2013, it will give me more experience in writing while obtaining an education.<br />
<br />
Last but not least is completing my fourth manuscript by the end of the year and preparing it for future publication.<br />
<br />
These are just three of many goals forthcoming and are in the works. Wish me luck!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-62874710853331713842012-12-13T11:30:00.001-08:002012-12-13T11:30:34.952-08:00Putting the past behind me and moving onward.I am sooooooooooooo glad that school is finished for the semester. Now I can have somewhat of a life...sure, keep dreaming, Mill. Actually, I am excited that I have opportunity to work on some well overdue writing projects. Yes, those again...editing and rewrite and all those fun things to get completed.<br />
<br />
In other news, I've decided to go ahead and create the beginning story to The Demon-Gods War. The current novels will still be a trilogy so not to worry. This new novel will be its own stand alone novel, but it can be included in with the box-set. Haven't really come up with a solid plot but working on it. All I can say is that the novel will flip any current thoughts on TGS and its continuation. Devious, yes, but it will be worth it in the end because:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7ZHFjcFa3LFD8GW40qJERl4jhsk0oBHPhTURdwH4Jlt7fKbB4yN-fazdnebG8EGinn3hwMxQE6KXEtjGnD0v0CXpDzGXVGi_41FetqTA5W0IBrSm3g2RqDw6jWwl4p7aBxOEpydTjUNd/s1600/62247_10151311024547089_1610659589_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7ZHFjcFa3LFD8GW40qJERl4jhsk0oBHPhTURdwH4Jlt7fKbB4yN-fazdnebG8EGinn3hwMxQE6KXEtjGnD0v0CXpDzGXVGi_41FetqTA5W0IBrSm3g2RqDw6jWwl4p7aBxOEpydTjUNd/s320/62247_10151311024547089_1610659589_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-27541137698529915252012-12-04T22:01:00.002-08:002012-12-04T22:01:53.199-08:00School is almost finished and then more writing!!! Bonus scene from TGS2Have a few more weeks...just a few more, so I need to hold on and finish strong. Last couple of papers and tests til the end of the semester. One more year until I am done with school and begin life. OK, so life has already began, but it will be nice to just have my writing to focus on. Maybe there will be a fresh wave of ideas. I'm down with that; I can use a few more good ideas from the muse. Speaking of muse, mine has been on vacation...at least one of us gets to have fun...until it returns, here is another piece from the current work in progress. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>Father walked further away from the blade. “So she wakes,” he muttered.
“And here I’d thought taking her would’ve been easy.” He shrugged, but his
motions showed anxiety.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>He’s afraid<i>. </i>What caused him so
much angst? What did Aurora have to do anything?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>“So you don’t know...” He mused over, relaxing. He walked behind me
confidently, dragging his sword. Tauntingly, he picked it up. “What makes a
warrior a warrior.” He whirled around, swinging the blade. Aurora rose to meet
his and pushed him away. “The sword controls you. Thus, you have no skill.” He
charged, bringing his weapon in from the right. My own slashed against, rubbing
sparks between them. Father halted, spat on the floor, and adjusted himself.
“You’ll never be your mother. She would’ve been disappointed in her child.”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>He’s right.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>I thrust Aurora forward, but he knocked her to the side.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.2in;">
<b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">“You have no discipline in your craft,” father announced. “Pathetic.” He
glanced to his injured arm with disgust. “How you managed to </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 32px;">scythed</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> me, I’ll
never know.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;">Foolish girl, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;">Aurora chastised. <i>Don’t listen; I’ve seen your ability.<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>“By the way,” he added, raising a hand. He placed his thumb and middle
finger together. “You might want to see this.” His fingers snapped, summoning a
cloud. It dispersed, revealing Heng-O with her arms tied behind her.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>My eyes widened.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>“Think of it as a going away present.” He turned his blade downward. It
hovered over her side like a pendulum. “Of course, there is the other option.”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; punctuation-wrap: simple; text-indent: .2in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>“That is?”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>“Surrender the armor to me, and I’ll spare her.”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>“That’s it, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>He wasn’t just after the armor—I saw it in his eyes. He wanted me as
Saain did with his own design in mind on what I should be. “That is all,” he
lowered his guard.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><b>I lowered mine and slid the armor on the floor. Heng-O widened her eyes. Fool...
I know.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-21918386134672184392012-11-29T00:38:00.000-08:002012-11-29T18:09:44.058-08:00TGS2 Teaser<br />
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%;">
Raylene:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
The air became
unsettled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
They’re here
somewhere. “Maybe we should go,” I said, looking around the airport. “I don’t
like it here.” I looked to Luccas who was still trapped in his thoughts. His
eyes shifted to me, looking lost and confused. He puzzled me as his gaze held
mine. It slowly moved to a different shade of blue. What is he thinking? I
walked closer into him and laid my hand on his shoulder. Worry, lost, fear,
crawled onto my fingers. “Luccas, is something wrong?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
He touched my hand
and patted it gently. “No,” he said as he walked past me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
The child shifted
herself in my arms while we followed after him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“Don’t give me that,”
I said in a low whisper. “There is...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
He stopped abruptly
and glared at me. “We’ll take the train to Darmstadt,” he said quickly. “No
questions asked. From there, we’ll formulate a plan.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“What?” I asked,
blinking my eyes and holding the child closely.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“We’ll take the train
heading towards Heidelberg to Darmstadt,” he went on. “A friend of mine has
already picked up our bags and is on her way there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“You’re avoiding the
question,” I said, accusing him. “You can’t do that with me. I need to know
what the plan is to find out who this little girl is.” His eyes looked around,
nodding his head to a far off stranger. I turned around to see who he knew, but
no one was there. I turned to him, scowling in disapproval.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“C’mon,” he said,
taking my hand and led me to wherever we were going. “Before we miss our
train.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
Before I knew it, we
were running. Everything went by quickly; therefore, I couldn’t see details in
the buildings, but I knew they were modern. After World War Two, there were
many cities destroyed. The people had rebuilt them although the memories were
still fresh in their minds. I recalled their faces when the bombs came down and
the aftermath. That was why I didn’t want to return; no one wished me to relive
those memories.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
My body shivered. Who
knew if there would still be someone who remembered me? What would I say to
them? Sorry for my stupidity?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I felt as though the
higher powers took a breath from me as we ran past several people. Coming to a
stop, my eyes rose to the ceiling as we went under a prodigious time schedule
board. The train station was unbelievable and massive! Along where the trains
stopped were signs that told when the departure time was. In the middle, there
were various food stands set up. However, something about it didn’t feel right.
It held eyes, which were hidden, in every place the demons could think of. I
lifted my eyes to the overhead; the beams interweave in a horizontal
crisscross. I imagined Cain holding onto one of them, looking down at us and
waited until he could strike.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“We’ve made it with
enough time to spare,” Luccas said happily. “Well, we could’ve taken the S-Bahn
with no trouble.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“S-Bahn?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“Yeah,” he said,
shrugging his shoulders. “There’s a subway that goes to here.” He pointed to
several people coming out of the ground. “There’s also a food court underneath
but enough of that.” He moved his gaze to the girl. “We should probably get
some food in us. McDonalds?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“No thanks,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“I was talking to the
little lady.” The girl shook her head to the offer. Figured as much, she
probably wasn’t hungry. “You sure? We haven’t eaten since the plane, but if you
insist...” With that, he left us alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I turned my head to
the girl who stared at me and reached for my face. She touched my cheek. My
eyes widened to many images flashing through my mind. The familiar smells of
blood and metal entered my nose while traveling through Saain’s headquarters. My
stomach twisted as though it would lose the matter in it. The white walls that
I grew to adore suddenly became a past I hated. I walked along them until I
came to a closed door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“That’s where they
keep us,” a small voice said behind me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I turned to the
little girl and knelt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
Her eyes greeted mine
as she spoke quieter in an adult tone. “You remember...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I furrowed my
eyebrows. “What do I remember?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
She whispered,
“Them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“Them?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“Is anyone there?” A male
voice asked suddenly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I rose to see who it
was and found Luccas walking towards us. His eyes were red, pulling his long
white coat back. He drew a magnum from its holster and pointed it at us. Luccas
with a gun? It was hard to imagine him with one. His face was hard as stone
unlike the Luccas I knew and loved. I checked his hands for a ring. On his
right, he wore the insignia of Saain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
My jaw tightened. No, that can’t be right...<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“Come out,” he said,
cocking his gun. “I know you’re here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I ducked behind the
corner and waited until he passed us. Luccas wouldn’t fight with a mortal’s
weapon. He normally had his sword on him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“You’re quiet...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“He needs to be
watched,” the girl said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“We need to be
quiet,” I said in a low growl. “Before he hears us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“He can’t hear us.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“Watch.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
Luccas continued his
patrol down the hall and stopped in front of us. His eyes darted to our hiding
place but went on his way. I lifted slowly from the corner enough to see if
anyone else came. The last thing I wanted was to run into someone who knew me. Luccas
being there though confused me. Why was he there when he never told me that he
was? The idea came unexpectedly. Was he also a member of Saain? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
I placed a hand on
the girl’s shoulder. I became alarmed for her. That whatever it was, whoever
she was, wouldn’t get caught with me. I couldn’t risk her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“You love him,” she
said, pointing out. “You want to abandon the idea, but you saw it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
True, I wanted to, honestly
I did. The thought gripped me and would distort every time I was with him.
Anger emerged from whence the subconscious pool laid as I restrained myself
from squeezing the girl’s shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
Control yourself, Raye<i>, </i>I took
a deep breath and exhaled. “Perhaps this is a mistake,” Yes, one that would be
cleared with Luccas. I didn’t have to worry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .2in;">
“No mistake,” she
said. I stared at her speechless and widened my eyes. “That’s right, you heard
me correctly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="Style3" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-78224281898116068202012-11-16T10:54:00.000-08:002012-11-16T10:54:02.578-08:00Published Poet and update on being an AuthorHey all!<br />
<br />
So recently I have published my very own book of poetry, and although it is small, there are some powerful words written on it's pages. I am excited that things such as my first novel and poetry have broken through. Currently, I am looking into another publisher for TGS2. Hopefully, everything will go a lot smoother than the last now that I have learned a hard lesson and matured in writing.<br />
<br />
Wow, there is a lot of things on my mind, so I guess they should be written. The first is what is already stated in the beginning paragraph. Oh yes, that's it. I have decided that after my contract is over with this particular publisher, I am going to re-release all of the novels dealing with the Demon-Gods War Trilogy. My reason for that is to have all of them in softback. The beginning novel is only in hardback. Sadly, the company will not release it on kindle unless I pay them too. That is fine; I have no problem waiting. By then I will have a better understanding in the world of publishing and perhaps begin my own publishing company. No, none of my books will be published through it. There is another place that will do the work for me.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2793736040785994867.post-64343505803586804962012-11-05T18:40:00.001-08:002012-11-05T18:40:23.715-08:00Something that is interesting.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Education has played a vital part in
Victorian society. From early ages, boys and girls, traditionally, mothers
educated them unless the family can afford a governess to teach the children
the required, appropriate attire of living in a Victorian lifestyle. Soon as, the
boys were old enough, their parents sent to school or a private tutor taught
them. Girls were taught either by their mothers or a governess if the women were
of the higher class. The parents would then seek for someone who could teach the
“genteel accomplishments which were the aims of female education” to their
daughters (Peterson, 9).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When George Elliot wrote <i>Middlemarch</i>, a college known as the Anglican
Queen's College was open. Girls and women, beginning from age of twelve, could
enter the doors as the college become as “a very fine public school” to teach
these women how to become governesses (Web). Another college opened later in 1849.
Bedford College was established through a woman named Elizabeth Jesser Reid. Mrs.
Reid gathered her educated friends to provide opportunities for women’s higher
education. Women came from many parts of England with a foundation of a
governess’s education. As the college became successful, more degrees were
given, and women had earned the privilege to attend a college strictly for
them. Among the many women who attended the college, whether it was one year or
many years, was George Elliot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Before Elliot’s time, there were very
few occupations a woman could enter if she were single. The first, women could
employ themselves as a governess. The role of a governess was considered an
honor. Interest of having went “beyond that of entertainment or economic analysis”
to the Victorians (1), since the position demanded energy and many hours of
spending time with children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The second, a woman could become a
school teacher. As seen in <i>Jane Eyre,</i>
young girls were also sent from their homes to an unknown place. Jane, upon her
aunt’s insistence, went to Lowood and became one of the teachers. As the novel
progressed, Jane found herself as not only a teacher, but she became a
governess to a gentleman named Edward Rochester.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In <i>Middlemarch,
</i>Rosamond Vincy had been taught at Mrs. Lennon’s School. While Rosamond engaged
herself into conversation with Lydgate, she spoke about knowing two men who
could sing. She said that within Middlemarch, “you will find” the town to be “tuneless”
(Eliot, 159). Rosamond furthered to explain she had studied under the organist
at St. Peter’s. Mr. Lydgate answered, “An accomplished woman almost always
knows more than we men, though her knowledge is of a different sort” (160). Having
women educated, at least in Lydgate’s eyes, is seen as a good thing, and
Rosamond can teach him “a thousand things” (16).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Compared to Dorothea, “Rosy,” as she is
called by the family, is used for a foil against Dorothea. Dorothea’s mother is
not in the novel. When introduced, the younger sister, Celia goes to Dorothea
and asks her to divide the jewels their mother left them. Dorothea learned to
be accomplished in horseback. Although Dorothea loves riding, she gives it up
for what she thinks is a good cause. Rosamond’s education consisted of the arts
whereas Dorothea enjoyed learning from books and developing plans to build
cottages.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Banerjee, Jacqueline,
Ph.D. Contributing Editor, The University of London and Women Students, Victorian
Web, http://www.victorianweb.org/history/education/ulondon/3.html<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Peterson,
M. Jeanne, <i>Victorian Studies</i>, Indiana
University Press, Vol. 14, No. 1, The Victorian Woman (Sep., 1970)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06281465885942474833noreply@blogger.com0