No One Mourns the Wicked

I remember it like it was yesterday, even though it was close to two months ago. It was December 21st
and disappointingly warm somewhere in Florida. It also happened to be my birthday. Most of the presents had been opened and I was coming out of it happier than I'd come in to it.

Then I was brought the 'big' present. In my family, we usually have our normal presents, like candy or socks, and then we have our 'big' present--the most expensive, and often most exciting, present.

For a 'big' present, it was kind of small. I opened it and was faced with a bookmark… But not any old bookmark. A Wicked bookmark. At first glance, it looked like a ticket to the show I'd been begging my parents to take me to (something which they'd already told me we couldn't afford). I remember looking at it and trying to keep the disappointment off my face. I was thinking 'well, I guess was thoughtful for them to make a me a bookmark… but seriously? This is kind of mean…' I was so focused on reigning in my emotions, I didn't even hear my until she touched my hand.

"Read it." She was saying, a silly smile on her face. So I took a second look at it. My brain wasn't connecting very well with my eyes. "It's real!" She said after a moment, and I just kind of looked at her.

I still didn't really believe it until Emma and I were standing outside Fox Theatre in Atlanta waiting for the doors to open.

It was cold. And I was in a dress. But it was the most fantastic thing I've experienced in a while, and I wish I could go again.

I love the music, but I already knew I liked that, and now that I know the context of the music, I love it even more. The costumes were great, and I've never wanted to be in a play more than at that moment. The singing and acting were phenomenal, and I had a blast. The second half of the play I spent curled up in my seat, tissues pressed against my nose. At the end, when all the cast came back out I jumped up and started screaming and clapping with everyone else.

It was wonderful. Basically, I couldn't be happier.

Thank you Emma and parents for taking me. I don't think I've ever had that much fun.

NaNoWriMo: a Summary

OH.

MY.

FREAKING. 

 GOD.

Guys. Guys I did it. On November 27th, 2014, I beat NaNo.

How is this even possible? Just a few days ago it was November 10th and I was crying because words.

Basically, this month has been a roller coaster. And I don't mean a kiddy roller coaster with like, one hill. This roller coaster had hundreds of ups and downs and spinning twists and upside down parts. Nutella, Emma, Mariesa, and my Mother are the only reasons I survived this month.

With as much as I complain and whine about writing, I don't think I've enjoyed a month like I have November of this year. Yes, it was hard. Yes, I wanted to give up. Yes, I probably could have had a normal November if I had. But guys. I wrote a novel. Like, a full-sized, more than 2 and a half chapters, novel.

I feel accomplished. Like mega accomplished. Accomplished like this girl.

Congratulations all you NaNo winners. And congratulations to all those who didn't make the 50,000. Why? You wrote something, even if it was only 5,000 words. You're 5,000 words farther than you would have been.

So. I'm off to collapse. Good night, everyone, and congratulations again!

NaNoWriMo Update #2

Wow. So, um, hey guys. It's been a while guys. Sorry about that, by the way. I meant to do another blog post late last week, but it kind of got away from me (really tho, it was thursday one second then monday the next).

Anyways. NaNo update. Is that what I'm supposed to be doing? *is a little brain dead*

Sheesh. Where do I even begin? A lot can happen (and has) in 10,000 words. 

I guess we'll start with the bad news, which in this case, isn't really that bad. A couple of times last week, I had a mini panic attack. Why, do you ask? Because I sort of, more or less, kind of ran out of plot.

I am not a plotter. I am a pantser. I find I work best when I have no real plan. Except, working with my daily 2000 word quota, I'm chewing through my ideas almost faster (and in some cases faster, which caused my previously mentioned panic attacks) than I can make them up.

Thankfully, one quote, from a very wise person whose name I cannot for the life of me recall, saved my life (and plot (and dignity)). He/She/It said: 

"Don't try and figure what should happen, but what should go wrong."

And don't quote me on that, because that could be a total paraphrasing too. XD

Onto the good news, friends. I have four words for you: Jeremiah Lynch and Grae. Seriously, these guys are closely rivaling Emmeth for the coveted position of my favorite character. Also, I'm actually kind of on schedule *points to progress bar to your left*. LOOK.

Anyways. Onto what you all really care about.

First. A gif.

This has pretty much been me as of late. I'm just like get the words down. Get them down. XD

My stats: 

Completed words today: 2075

Total word count: 17504

Favorite snippet(s): 
“Psh. As if.” She said, jogging in front then turning around to walk backwards, wagging her finger at me. “I'm not passing up an opportunity to save the world. Besides, what if you need me?”
“I'm not going to need you.”
“Do you know how to hot-wire a car?”
I shot her an irriated look. “No.”
“Well, me either, but I'm sure I could figure it out.” She said, chuckling. She found herself far too amusing. “But really, I have this really good recipe for soup and all you need is-” She counted on her fingers as she listed the ingredients “Chicken stock, salt, pepper, and your favorite flavor of cardboard.”
“How are we going to get any of that in Antarctica?”
“That's your job to figure out, Pryor. You need to pitch in somehow, since I'll be the one doing the hot-wiring and cooking.”
“You're incredibly obnoxious.”
“I know.” She seemed very proud of that fact.

-like, 8000 or so words later-

He took the gauze from Rina and began to re-wrap Conrad's leg, tying it off in a tight knot. “You can't cure Ignis Necrosis.” He said flatly. “Trust me, I've tried.”
“Pryor Mason is not who you think he is, Jeremiah Lynch.” Guardian flew up in front of me, next to Lynch's shoulder. “He is the Harbinger.”
Lynch went rigid. His eyes narrowed and he stood. “That... That isn't possible.” He bit out. “The Harbinger died. Or have you forgotten that too, Cloud Walker?”
“You know as well as I do that he was but an imposter.”
“He was my son, you pretentious b*****.” Lynch growled. He turned towards Guardian. “There is no Harbinger. There is no cure. Do you hear me, Cloud Walker? There. Is. No. Cure. Get the h*** out of my camp, before I shoot you myself.”

(I apologize for Lynch, he's kind of a potty mouth… But I luffs him anyways.)

Until next time.

NaNoWriMo So Far...

Day three of NaNoWriMo is almost over.

It's only been three days guys and I've already lost control of my life.

I've been sitting back in my room for like, the past four hours trying to do 2000 words.

I. Am. Dying.

But I love it.

I've never written this much so quickly.

NaNo and I have a love/hate relationship.

Anwayssssss. My stats for this week:

Completed words today: 2065
Total word count: 6214
Favorite snippet:  “Pryor Mason,” He whispered. “We are not alone.”
My stomach plummeted, and I cursed myself. Carlton and Ms. Bently should still be here. Why weren't the lights on?
“Carlton?” I whispered, as loud as I dared. Fear and adrenaline coursed through my veins—all I could hear was my pounding heart. If the power was out... Or, if there had been some sort of malfunction…
Exo-glass was reinforced with electricity.
Almost in answer, a ear piercing shriek ripped through the chilled air. Panic rippled through my muscles, freezing them in place. My eyes darted to the left.

I'm going to bed now. 

K. Bye.

Standardized Tests Suck

Let me tell you a story…

Nine days ago, a stressed young writer sat down in her local high school, surrounded by other not-nearly-as-nervous-seeming-test-takers, no. 2 soft lead pencil and scientific calculator in hand, and dared to take the PSAT/NMSQT.

This stressed young writer hates standardized tests that have a pesky habit of determining the academic future of a person, and as such, had a near panic attack on the way to said local high school. Once the building, a squat, wide complex stinking of opportunity, came into view, all bets were off. Her heart sped up, thudding dully inside her chest, and her palms began to sweat. She walked inside, chewing her bottom lip as if it were her only hope.

While her mother reported the reluctant arrival of her daughter, all our stressed young writer could hear and comprehend was the pounding of her heart. The next ten minutes passed slow (her family was notorious for arriving early) and all she wanted to do was crawl under the nearest blue cushioned chair and hide.

Finally, after an eternity, it was time. Our young writer was lost, with no idea where to go, seeing as she's a homeschooler who only sets foot on high school grounds to take said standardized tests. One, brave, front office worker offered to take the writer, and another home schooled boy, to the testing room. The walk was long, and quite painful in the writer's mind.

Upon arriving to the dreaded testing room, the writer was ushered inside, pushed to a seat in the front row, and given her testing materials. A very long time elapsed, filled with the furious filling in of personal information that will not be disclosed in such a public place at the world wide web--she was grateful though, as it gave her hands time to stop shaking.

Over all, the young writer feels good about how she did. Her overwhelming sense of panic and foreboding was replaced with a strange, fragile calm once the test booklet was opened and she read the first question. Unfortunately, she/we/I won't know just how well (or poorly) she did until December.

Now, with all that backstory out of the way (no, I won't be offended if you skipped all of that (okayiwillbutjustalittlebuthey)), I can get to what I actually wanted to tell you about.

This morning, after my very long, very warm shower, my Mom registered me for the ACT in December… And she's also looking at signing me up for the SAT. In December.

'Yay' does not even cover what I'm feeling right now.

Like I said, I just got finished with the PSAT. NaNoWriMo is going to basically take over my November, and now I might have not one, but two, tests in December.

somebodyhelpme
._.