Just Another Writer Writing

So....I love both the song "Christmas Shoes" and the musical "Christmas Shoes". And I think I saw the movie once. Anyway, I listened to it for the first time in a long time tonight, and I've decided I'm going to write my own little spin on it. But with a girl. (Cuz, ya know, I'm a girl and whatnot) So, I now present to you, my take on "Christmas Shoes" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She sat in the hospital cafeteria, mindlessly pushing her food around her plate. The potatoes mixed with the sauce from the chicken, creating an unappetizing mess. "You've got to eat sweetie." Her father quietly encourages. "I'm not hungry." She says a bit too forcefully. "How can you even eat?" He didn't answer, and that's when she saw the half eaten meal on his own plate. "Try practicing what you preach." She stood up and carried her tray to the nearest trash can.  "Where are you going?" He asked. &q

Friday morning is usually the most boring part of my week, but today...today is different. My husband Ben is at work, while I sit in front of the computer. I'm supposed to be working too, but the blank monitor staring back at me apparently has different ideas. December 18th, six months and two weeks until my deadline, and the re-writing was killing me. I sigh and stand up, maybe a quick walk will help me gather my thoughts? Probably not; I've logged almost ten miles on my treadmill already this month and no inspiration has sprung from my cluttered thoughts. Another sigh escapes my lips as I search for a snack in our small kitchen; trying to write while waiting for the test is clearly not a good idea. On one hand, I'm ecstatic, making plans and day dreaming about the future. But on the other. . .I'm terrified. What if I'm not ready? What if we're not ready? To be parents. To have a child. To be responsible for our own little miniature human that will be completel

"Have you still got your blindfold on?" His voice came from where he was tied up behind me. "Y-Yes" I said through chattering teeth. It was so cold in here. "Promise me you won't take it off." He said. What could he mean? Before I could ask, I heard the door open. "Jacob I'm scared." I whispered. "It'll be alright, you'll be fine-I promise. But just promise me that you won't won't take off that blindfold, alright?" I wanted to smack him and hug him at the same time. "I can't feel my fingers! I doubt that will be a problem." I hear snickering and what sounds like his chair being dragged away from mine. "That's right girly, you sit tight and maybe we'll have you home before bedtime." A voice I vaguely recognized came from across the small room. "Shut up Butch, you don't want her-you want me." What was he talking about? The voice laughed, joined by at least

"You look at us this is what you see Matchin' red hair and big brown eyes Mother and daughter well possibly But the truth we won't disguise Cuz I could be hers and she could be mine Though our blood is not the same But our hearts beat as one to the same old song And if you look close you'll see today." These are the words to the first verse of a song I wrote not to long ago, entitled "Matchin' Red Hair." It's about a woman I met almost 3 years ago, but whom I feel I've known forever. She's become exactly like a mother to me, and sometimes I feel that I don't fully grasp what that means for her. Because-just like a mom-she is willing to risk our friendship, chance making me mad, and step on my toes if she feels that it's what's best for me.  It's difficult for me to grasp, but I also believe that nothing could sever our friendship. I don't doubt there will be times when we are mad or upset with one anothe

So one of the things I would like to do on this blog, other than describe the perils of my own attempts at writing, is to have a place to post short stories or ideas for stories that I can come back to later. But firstly, I want to share with you all a writing that is deeply important to me. It is "an old one" and I thought about re-writing it, but when I sat down to try I discovered that I could not. Every time I even think about taking pen to paper and writing this again...I discover that I can't. Emotionally, and physically, I am unable to re-tell this tale, even if only to edit a line here or there. So what you will read (if you've even stayed with me this long) is the unedited version of what I wrote almost three years ago. I wrote the story about three years after the fact, and all that happened happened in June of the year 2008. So, for better or worse, here is the story that I can no longer write. The story of the day that my life changed course forever. &qu

Ok, so this last week I have been trying to think up ways to help me outline my stories, because traditional outlines don't work for me. I either make them way too detailed, or don't have nearly enough detail. So I first came up with a list of questions to use as a starting point. 1) What happens?/What needs to happen? What is the major thing that happens in the book. The thing that the entire plot centers around and leads up to or explains all throughout the book. 2) who does it happen to? Who is your main character? Your secondary characters? Supporting characters? Extras? Make a list of at least the names. 3) Why does it happen? What's the reason behind Sally running away or Jimmy training to hard for track? What is the goal? What happens because of it? 4) When does it happen? Pick a time period!! Is it midevil? Post modern? Modern? Ten years ago? Research if needed, and keep everything in the contest of the time period. 5) Where does it happen? Does your story take plac

Hi! So....I thought before I got into all the writing (yay!) I'd tell y'all a little about me. Now, first, I can't promise that I will always use perfect writing style and grammer on this site. After all, after trying (and usually failing) to do so with pen and paper (or Microsoft Word) it's nice to have a place where that's not the most important thing. :-)  So, about me. Hmm... Well, I'm 17 and I've probably been writing for about 8 years. It started with a story, a Batman, Robin, and Bat-girl fan-fiction, when I was about 9 years old. And it just expanded from there. I went through two old, about to die, hand me down laptops. I am now on my third, and it's about to bite the dust. Even as I'm typing, I'm waiting for everything to transfer over to a flash drive. My hope is to be able to get a macbook air before the first of the year. (I might even break my standards and go (gasps) BLACK FRIDAY SHOPPING!!! but I would only do something that dr