My inspiration is dead. Deader than a doornail. Even figuring out how to begin this post is like pulling teeth.

The point is, I can't write. And whenever I do, it's extremely forced. And for me, this is almost a full-blown crisis. I can't write?! But I'm a writer! That's what writers do!

So, I'm in a slump. If I'm being honest, I hate writing right now. I can't live without it, but right now I just can't do it. It's the weirdest paradox ever.

I even feel lame about complaining here, because I've been in this place so many times and in so many other blog posts. You guys get to hear all about it whenever I'm blocked in my writing. Today is no exception, and you have my utmost apologies for my complaints.

I honestly think my lack of inspiration is due to a lack of faith in my abilities as a writer. I've been feeling the blues today when it comes to my writing, which is probably my fault since I was reading tons of writing blogs today. Whenever I read advice from other authors, it makes me realize how little I know about writing and how much I still have to learn (and fix). And then the doubts set in. Common doubts are, But everyone is better than me. I'll never get published. My novels have so many flaws.

And on and on and on.

Are you in this place too? If you are, I desperately wish I had something earth-shattering I could say to you. I don't. But perhaps we could commiserate together?

Come in, have a seat, sit down. Over there by a door is a stack of swords. Pick one up. Let's hunt some orc!


(Pardon me. Aragorn has once again barged his way onto my blog. I did, of course, mean to say inspiration. Not orc. Carry on.)

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.- William Wordsworth

I don't share my writing with anyone very often. It's too personal. Handing off my manuscript to anyone could be compared to a mother handing her baby to a perfect stranger. It just doesn't work.

And yet, if I ever want to succeed at my dream... if I ever want to be a published author and share my work with the world, I'll have to do just that: share my work with the world.

This post by Liz @ Awake struck a chord with me. She writes, "Do you write from the deepest part of your nature? Do you write without fear, unashamed, laying open the beauty and darkness of your own soul so that it may stir the souls of everyone who reads your story? Or are you too afraid, like me?"

This is what I left in a comment. I feel like it's honest enough to share with the whole world. Because this is my heart when it comes to writing the raw truth.

I'm too afraid.

This is something I've been pondering lately. It seems to me that the great novels, the ones that last for centuries, are the ones that are so raw with honesty that your heartstrings are strained by reading. You relate to the characters, you relate to the emotion, because somehow, the author of that book managed to capture your soul.

Now, it's my greatest desire to write like that. But can I? I've been asking myself the same question.

I want to be honest. I want my novels to be raw, true, and defiant of any expectations. But it's going to take time for me to get to the point where I'm willing to share my heart in the form of inkblots on a page.

As you probably already know, I've been plotting for my latest project recently: Souvenirs of a Life Untold. It's the weirdest novel I've ever plotted, and I don't say that lightly. I have no plan. I've been trying to outline, but this novel has been coming together in a different way. Through images that I find on Tumblr. A golden retriever puppy. A violin. A street in the middle of old-style England. A gondola. A mailbox under a lonely tree. Most of the time, I have no idea what significance these things have in the story, and yet the novel is taking shape. Like a quilt, being stitched together.

At the same time, this novel terrifies me. It has the potential to become so powerful, but there is one thing it requires of me: honesty. Brutal honesty. To write my heart out on the page. To put my soul down in the form of words.

That is possibly the most petrifying thing about being a writer: to let your emotions go. To give them wings and let them fly to someone else. To write with full abandon and not care what people think. To hand the critics a stick and say, "Yes. Here is my heart. Poke at it all you wish."

There's one thing you generally don't think that writers need: Courage. Because writing is not easy. It's going to be hard to let my soul bleed onto the pages.

But I'm praying that I have the courage to do it anyway.

I'm turning sixteen this month. And I'm resisting the change with everything in me.

I don't like change. I don't like getting older. I don't like growing up.

And yet at the same time, I do like it. I crave adventure. I long to drive, get my own car, and live life. I want to grow up.

And yet I don't. It's confusing, I know. Perhaps you can relate?

Peter Pan has been weighing heavily on my thoughts lately. So has Neverland. Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.

It's not that hard to find Neverland. Is it?

I posted a status on Facebook, asking my friends to direct me to the nearest Neverland. Thankfully they reassured me that growing up isn't all that bad.

And maybe, I'm thinking, it isn't.

Everyone resists growing up. Adults complain, wishing they were younger. But what would happen if I met growing up with open arms? What if I welcomed it? What if I saw it as an adventure just waiting to happen?A lot of things might change, wouldn't they? The least of which being my age.

I kind of feel like growing up is my impending doom, comparable to the dark storm clouds that linger in the sky. But when I think about storms, an image comes to mind of a ship tossed by the waves. A brave sea-captain stands on the deck. Staring at the storm. Welcoming it. Wanting to take on the danger and the adventure and the rain... and everything that comes with it. I want to be like that sea-captain, as unrealistic and idyllic as he sounds. Adventure is out there, we've just gotta find it.

Maybe growing bad isn't half bad. Maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe Neverland is found when you grow up. Maybe the adventure is in living life, and greeting it with arms wide open.

In the meantime, though, I'll still be looking for Peter Pan.

And on my sixteenth birthday, I'll probably be watching a handful of Disney movies. Just so you know.

It's always hard for me to decide which characters to use for BP, and it was doubly hard this time around. You already know these two, but it was rather nervewracking to post them since they've become incredibly close to my heart. Avary and Ryan are in my Camp NaNo novel, tentatively titled Souvenirs of a Life Untold. They have an... interesting relationship.

1. Do they believe in anything that most people think is impossible?

Avary is a dreamer, so yes. She’s always dreamed of the unknown. It surprises her when something impossible actually does happen in the story, but it’s more exciting to her than anything.

Ryan, on the other hand, is incredibly skeptical. He’ll eventually figure things out for himself, but it takes a while.

2. Are they strong, or the "damsel/knight in distress" sort?

Ooh. Tough question. Avary is a mixture of strong and dependent. She has forced herself to become emotionally strong, and yet she still needs other people—more than she’d like to admit.

Ryan is not a knight in distress. He can take care of himself, thank you very much.

3. Do they have a special place? (e.g. a corner in his/her bedroom, under a tree...)

Avary has two. The forest surrounding her house, and her windowseat. She’ll retreat to either place with a notebook and a fountain pen and scribble away.

Ryan doesn’t really have a special place because he moves on so often. However, he’s most comfortable in the woods. I suppose that’s one thing he and Avary have in common.

4. What occupation do they have, or plan on having?

Avary would like nothing better than to be a writer and have her novels published. She’s a private person, though, so sharing her writing is scary. That’s her eventual goal, though.

Ryan has already found a suitable occupation, and that is a jack of all trades. He does carpentry and fixing things, mostly.

5. Describe their current place of residence.

Avary lives in a white clapboard house with a giant front porch and green shutters. It’s located in the rural area, about 30 minutes from town, in the middle of a giant forest with a minimal amount of neighbors and distractions.

Ryan’s place of residence changes so often that it’s hard to tell. He’ll stay in a place for a few weeks or at best a month, and then move on. Usually he holes up in the local inn and just pays for an extended visit.

6. Explain their last crisis. How had they changed when they came out of it?

Avary’s last crisis is hard to pinpoint. I do believe it involved someone leaving her, a broken relationship, or someone betraying her trust. After that, she changed by resolving to not trust so easily. To this day, she finds it hard to let people into the deepest parts of her heart. Further details are something I have no idea about yet. She hasn’t seen fit to tell me.

Ryan’s last true crisis had two parts. Years ago, his father left his family for good. As a boy the age of six, it was incredibly hard for him to comprehend and accept. He once was an innocent little boy with wide eyes and a joy for living. He changed into a scarred individual with a limited amount of trust and a gypsy soul that can’t find a place where he feels at home.

The second crisis he faced was when he left his family behind, just like his father had. He still to this day cannot stop regretting the choices he made that day.

7. If they could drive any kind of car they wanted, what would it be?

Ryan would drive a navy blue pickup truck, and that’s exactly what he drives right now. He purchased it at the age of 16 and has put it through more than normal cars go through in a lifetime. He and his truck has a strange bond, and he doesn’t see the point in getting a new one. As far as he’s concerned, he already has his dream car.

Avary would drive a VW bug.

8. How do they deal with change?

Avary resists it with everything in her. She hates it. It scares her. On the flip side, she craves adventure, which goes hand in hand with change. So I suppose she has a love/hate relationship with it. She’s a complex individual, that one is.

Ryan, on the other hand, accepts it. He thrives on it. It’s the only way he can keep his mind off of all the mistakes he’s made in the past.

9. If they had to amputate one body part, which one would they choose?

Avary would choose her left hand. She needs her right one to journal and write novels, and she needs her feet in order to go to the places she chooses. She would be at a loss when using a typewriter, of course, but that would be a small loss compared to losing the ability to write with a pen and walk to her hiding places.

Ryan can’t afford to lose any of his appendages, so he’d choose to amputate a finger. That would cause the minimal amount of damage and allow him to still continue his work.

10. What would their favorite be at the local coffee shop?

Ryan takes his coffee either black or with a tiny bit of cream. No sugar. He likes it bitter.

Avary likes coffee in any form, and will drink it black if need be, but she prefers coffee with cream and sugar. She also loves strawberry lemonade, which is conveniently sold at the local café.



Part Two

1. How did they meet?

Ryan passes through her town, and they meet somehow. Potentially. This is still to be determined.

2. How do these two deal with conflict?

Ryan is intensely hard to deal with in conflict. Avary feels the need to talk things out, whereas Ryan just totally closes up and shuts down. This makes their arguments very difficult and sometimes quite heated.

3. Do they have a special song, phrase, item, or place?

“Don’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”

4. What kind of things do they like to do together?

Oh, um, I don’t know. Save the world. Travel the galaxy. Stuff like that.

5. Describe their relationship as a whole in 3 words or less.

Hard to crack.

It's time for Beautiful People again! BP is a monthly blog challenge started by Georgie Penn and I. Every month around the 20th, we post 10 questions for you to answer about your characters. If you want more information, you can check out the very first post or the FAQ.

And now I have an announcement to make: Beautiful People has officially been around for one year. Last March, we decided to start this blog thing, and our blogs have never been the same since.

Because this is BP's one-year anniversary, Georgie and I decided to do something special this month. It's an optional challenge focusing on relationships.

How it works: you pick two characters that have a unique relationship or a relationship that you want to know more about. This could be anything from siblings, to a couple, to just friends. As long as you choose two characters that are connected to each other in some way, you should be good to go.

We've offered 15 questions this month. The first 10 are normal questions that you answer about both your characters. Then, there are 5 extra questions focusing specifically on what kind of a relationship they have.

If you don't want to do the additional 5 questions, you can always just pick one character and use just the 10 questions as planned. This relationship challenge is completely optional and it's up to you whether you want to participate.

And now, here are the normal 10 questions that we typically have every month. Thanks especially to Alyianna and Finvarra Penn for submitting some of these.

1. Do they believe in anything that most people think is impossible?
2. Are they strong, or the "damsel/knight in distress" sort?
3. Do they have a special place? (e.g. a corner in his/her bedroom, under a tree...)
4. What occupation do they have, or plan on having?
5. Describe their current place of residence.
6. Explain their last crisis. How had they changed when they came out of it?
7. If they could drive any kind of car they wanted, what would it be?
8. How do they deal with change?
9. If they had to amputate one body part, which one would they choose?
10. What would their favorite be at the local coffee shop?

And here are the extra 5:

1. How did they meet?
2. How do these two deal with conflict?
3. Do they have a special song, phrase, item, or place?
4. What kind of things do they like to do together?
5. Describe their relationship as a whole in 3 words or less.

That's about it! We've tried to keep these neutral so you can answer them regardless of genre. However, if you do write fantasy or sci/fi, try to adapt them so that they do fit your genre, or pose the question as if your character was in a modern world.

If you have any questions about how this works, feel free to leave a comment here or on Georgie's blog and we'd be happy to answer. Or, if you have any questions to submit for future BP posts, we'd love that too.

Don't forget to sign the linky!

Today, my family decided to take a trip to the zoo. However, I was feeling entirely exhausted so I decided to opt out. Instead of going to gawk at animals, I stayed home and watched Star Trek with my dad.

Am I sounding like a nerd yet?

Don't worry, it gets better. Or worse -- whichever the case may be.

After Star Trek (Deep Space Nine), I decided to paint my nails. This is a rare occurrence, partly because I don't have the time and also because I dislike the smell (and, I should mention, my family dislikes it too). A couple of days ago I picked up some nail polish during my family's once-a-year trip to Target. Up until now I'd only owned nail polish in shades of pink and purple. However, my whim on this day was to select a lovely hue of sky blue and also a nice-looking shade of lime green.

Just so you all know, this lime green nail polish is a lot uglier than I thought it would be. It's going to have to grow on me.

(Side note: My eight-year-old sister, after seeing the nail polish, decided to purchase some too. It was only after she had selected several colors that we realized she'd selected red, orange, yellow, dark blue, and purple -- the perfect way to complete a rainbow. This was fortunate considering the fact that our existing nail polish bottles dried up years ago.)

So after I had painted all the fingers one one of my hands (and also tried to type with said hand, a venture which was somewhat successful), I decided to watch something. I briefly considered Star Trek, but decided I wanted to make a foray into a completely new show. The new show I selected just happened to be Doctor Who.

Many of my friends have told me about it, but it took me a long time to actually decide to watch the show. As it so happens with me, I already knew the names of all the characters and even some very strange plot twists. (I didn't mind reading spoilers since I figured I'd never watch the show. As it so happens, I was wrong.) Anyway, I clicked play on Season 5, episode 1 -- The Eleventh Hour. It's the beginning of the most recent incarnation of the Doctor, Matt Smith, who is my personal favorite. (Yes. I did have a favorite before I even watched the show. Oops.)

From the beginning, I had a strange fascination with the show. Okay, okay, at first I thought the beginning was weird -- but you can't deny that a blue police box careening out of control is a little strange. As the show progressed, there was barely a second where I was bored. (This is a major feat, considering I tend to zone out with anything of a televised nature.) Mediocre plots and obvious plot twists do not phase me. Well, they do phase me, but not for the good. To grab my attention, you must have an absolutely brilliant show.

I'm not 100% certain about the rest of the series, but the episode I watched was an absolutely brilliant show.

I think I'd watch it just on account of the dry, British humor. From the very beginning, I was laughing out loud. I had to keep a notepad open on my computer to scribble down random quotes that tickled my fancy. And for the entire opening of the show, I was so transfixed that I had to pause it to finish painting the nails on my other hand.

As for the rest of it, I'm a bit concerned that it may be too intense or creepy. (Even The Eleventh Hour was creepy, but the brilliance outweighed the bad, I think.) So I'll have to take it one episode at a time. But for an hour's worth of diversion, I think Doctor Who was worth it -- and far surpassed any expectations I ever had.

I once saw a lady with TARDIS earrings at a movie theater. I didn't understand what was so cool about them then. Now I do. The TARDIS is amazing. The end.

I've been having a fair amount of difficulty writing lately. No... it isn't the writing part, exactly -- rather, it's the plotting that must happen before writing. I have trouble with this stage. Always. If you recall, I put up quite a few frenzied posts before NaNo last year, this being one of them. And once again, you, my blog readers, are the ones who get the front seat to my writing weaknesses. So be my guest -- get comfortable, grab a pillow and a cappuccino while we commiserate together.

I'm plotting for Camp NaNoWriMo. Tentatively. Because as we all know, I tend to have a hard time committing to writing challenges until they're almost upon me. (Even on November 1st I was completely unsure of whether I wanted to let NaNo devour my entire month. I succumbed, of course.) So, when I say that I'm plotting for Camp NaNo, take it with a grain of salt. Or a pound of salt. Whatever you wish.

Anyway, even if I don't do Camp NaNo, I've decided I'm going to write something this summer. What might that something happen to be, you ask? You know her well. Perhaps too well. Or perhaps not at all. Her name... is Avary. (The idea of her originated here, and subsequent posts about her can be found here.)

Yes. I've finally decided to write her story. I've wanted to write it for a long time, and even tried writing it multiple times. Now I'm taking the leap... and I've landed straight into a plothole. Lots of them. Plotholes are huge gaping crevices in the middle of the ground, filled with inky words and scattered ideas that somehow don't want to cooperate. Plotholes are my worst enemy (besides Sauron, but we didn't come to talk about my escapades in Middle Earth, did we?).

Anyway. Avary's story was born around two years ago on a dark and stormy night. (Just kidding. I have no idea what the weather was.) I had a dream about that reeked of sci-fi and fantasy, filled with time travel and a random dude named Brian who had lots of problems to juggle.

This story has gone through so many revisions. So many characters. Brian has now become Ryan, and I love him to pieces. And somehow, somewhere, Avary intruded on this mess of a novel inkling by quietly wiggling her way into my thoughts and ideas.

Now, however, my plot is a mess. It turns out that novels don't take kindly to you deleting entire characters. (Ha, yes, I deleted one. Violet. I don't regret it; she needed to leave.) I have several gaping plotholes, as I've mentioned before, and as soon as I figure out how to fix one, I'm faced with several others. One of the biggest ones is my characters (except Ryan, of course, who has been positively wonderful through this whole process). My current two-dimensional problems. Avary. Bailey. Sawyer. Their personalities are incredibly void, lacking life and vigor to make them whole people. Maybe it's because they're too perfect -- or, maybe, in Avary's case, they're too flawed. I don't know.

So here I am, once again in the place I was last October, trying to find a plot. Grasping for something -- anything to hold onto. And desperately hoping that my ideas aren't cliche, hoping that I'll find something positively brilliant that will shake the world to its core. (It probably doesn't help that I just finished The Hunger Games trilogy and I'm wondering how on earth I can write a masterpiece like that.) I'm also overusing semi-colons; I recently discovered how wonderful they are and they make me feel highly pretentious.

But I digress. Any advice would be welcomed. Or maybe just well-wishes and prayers. I've been here before, and I'll be back here again. It's the place where ideas collide and ink is poured and sweat stands out on my poor little forehead while my brain is sorely overworked. It's the place before the novel.

(And then we have the actual writing bit, which could be just as torturous, but I refuse to think about that.)