A character I made up back in 2009 was a Pokémon, (Rattata) named Roy, and he has become a favorite character of mine. I tend to like the basic Pokémon more.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

NaPoWriMo Poems

I have decided that I will be posting my poems on my DeviantArt page found here:
Thank you!

Friday, March 7, 2014

NaPoWriMo 2014

I am participating in this year's NaPoWriMo, along with Camp NaNoWriMo occurring at the same time. I have to write at least one poem every day during the month of April, and I will be using those toward my WriYe goal of 400,000 words. I'm aiming for 1,500 NaPoWriMo words, which averages at least 50 words per poem.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

WriYe Blogging Circle, January 2014 - Planning

            What's your favorite planning method? Do you prefer to plot by hand or use the computer? What part of planning do you hate the absolute most? Or do you hate all of planning and you'd rather pants your novels? Why?

             Though I mostly write by computer, much of planning is handwritten. This is because whenever I’m on the go, and I suddenly get attacked by a great plot bunny, I can easily pull out my notebook and make some quick notes on it. I also don’t plan/plot much by computer because I don’t want to create extra files for planning and have all those documents eat up space on my laptop.
           My methods of planning usually involve just spending some time thinking about it, listening to music I think will help my creativity, and prayer. A phrase from 1 Peter 4:11 really convicts me to take my thoughts and writings seriously, and it’s as follows, “Whoever speaks, is to do so as one who is speaking the utterances of God...” I take the same approach to writing and plotting because I know that God holds me accountable for my words, and that they should beautiful and glorifying to Him above all else.
            My least favorite part of planning is when I have a couple of really good scenes plotted out, but I have no idea how to connect them. When this happens, more often than not, I have to throw out one of the scenes so that I can get the story to make sense. It’s never any fun throwing a good scene, but the story comes first, right? Besides, a discarded scene may find its way into another story in the future where it makes more sense.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

The Two Squirrels, and Peter's Exhortation

This is the fable I wrote for the WriYe Genre Stretch. I started it on 1/22 and finished it on 1/25. I have never shared this much of my writing before no the internet, but I may as well take the risk! I also took the risk of including absolutely no dialogue, just to see if it could be done. This is a follow up of my 2012 NaNo, "Ben's Story." Please comment me with any questions. Thanks for reading!

The Two Squirrels, and Peter’s Exhortation
            It was about three months after Ben had taken away Peter’s life, and he was still trying to get used to the change. Some nights would pass by with terrifying nightmares of what he had done that day three months ago.
            He recalled seeing his parents plunging off the side of the cliff into the river, he remembered exactly how he had accidentally run into Carla and knocked her off as well. He remembered desperately trying to save his brother’s life, only to take it away instead. He’ll never forget the cracking sound Peter’s rib made as it broke off, and seeing the blank expression in his now dead eyes.
            His parents now would hear him crying in the middle of the night sometimes, and his mother would get up to go tell him that everything was okay. She sat him up and sat next to him on his bed and cradled his head in her arms. Neither of them needed to speak, she just let him shed every tear that was in his eyes before she lay him back down, bade him sweet dreams, and went back to her own bed.
            Meanwhile, Carla remained a steadfast friend with him, and she could see that he had a good, changed heart. He was slowly, yet surely gaining back his joyful spirit. His encounter with God had changed everything, and he made sure that everyone in the village knew about it.
            Though Ben was still just eight, and Carla just seven, they felt very close to each other. Whenever one of them was referring to the other, they used the terms “boyfriend,” or “girlfriend.”
            They were very cute together, and it was Ben who appreciated their friendship the most. It wasn’t that Carla wasn’t grateful for Ben, it was more that Ben was amazed that Carla would still be his friend after what he had put her through.
            It was Carla’s eighth birthday now, and what she wanted to do was leave the village and go on a little exploration herself. Her parents said she could traverse to just south of the village, but that she had to be back home within thirty minutes, and that she had to go with someone else. She didn’t mind that last rule because she wanted Ben to come along anyways.
            The area just south of the village was typically safe and friendly, which was why Carla’s parents didn’t mind her going a little bit in that direction. Ben’s parents had also allowed him to go with her. However, Ben’s parents neglected to tell him that Carla could only be out for thirty minutes, and Carla decided to take advantage of this.
            Carla said that her parents let her be out for up until sunset, which was convenient for her because the Northern Solstice was shortly coming and the days were getting longer. She didn’t think much of her coming disobedience because the area was safe anyways, and if her parents asked about why she was not back home in time, she would just say that she lost track of time and she wanted to show Ben around.
            So, Carla and Ben set out just after a nice lunch Ben had made for the both of them. He looked forward to spending the day with her and seeing new places. Even his parents were under the impression that they could both be out until sunset.
            The late-spring day was so pleasant and colorful. Many of Ben’s favorite berries were coming in full bloom. This was his favorite time of year because it was when the forest was at its most colorful. There was an incredible amount of green above their heads, with blotches of pink, light blue, yellow, dark red, and purple.
            As the two of them walked and talked, time drifted on and on. Carla was careful not to bring up her curfew because she knew Ben would call her out on it. However, as she kept this hidden from him, the worse and worse she was starting to feel.
            Ben was starting to notice that Carla wasn’t looking well, and he asked her what was wrong. Instead of telling him the truth about the curfew, she lied to him and said she was feeling sick. He took her word for it and he told her that he would find the right berry for her condition. There was a particular kind of berry in this forest that Ben thought of that would cure Carla’s imaginary ailment. This made her feel even worse, but she still refrained from telling him the truth because she didn’t want him to know that she was lying to his face.
            So, as Ben earnestly searched for the right berry, Carla was starting to feel even worse than before. Because of her, Ben was straying far from home for a sickness she didn’t even have. She was afraid that they might get lost, or encounter a dangerous animal. However, her mouth remained sealed.
            Eventually, Carla decided to just tell the truth to her friend to keep them out of trouble; but as she said his name, they both heard howling in the distance, like that of a wolf. They both became frightened and rushed to the nearest tree to climb it.
            The nearest tree to them had large enough branches for them to stay on. Not only did the howling get closer, but it sounded like there were multiple wolves on a hunt. This was why her parents didn’t want her out this far; the wolves picked up the scent of delicious squirrel and were about to surround them.
            Carla suggested to Ben that they just make a run for it, but he told her that she was crazy, in his nicest tone of course. He said to her that they should just wait it out, and it wasn’t like they would starve because there were plenty of berries for them on the tree.
            There were three wolves in total, and there was merciless hunger in their greedy eyes. Ben looked at one of the wolves bark, and he beheld a bottomless pit in his throat, and stained teeth that carried on them the marks of carnage. The only thing separating the squirrels and the wolves was nine-and-a-half feet.
            The wolves tried to clamber up the tree, but their small meals were just a bit too high up for them. Carla suggested that they throw berries at them to see if they would eat those instead, but Ben told her that that would do nothing to satiate their huge appetites. They would have no choice but to wait for them to get bored and leave, or fall asleep.
            The sky was starting to become orange, and the wolves were not leaving. Carla was on the verge of tears not only were the wolves frightening, but that she put both her and Ben in this situation, that she lied to him, and that she didn’t obey her parents.
            Ben noticed the grief in Carla’s face, and he held her paw and told her that they would be okay. Suddenly, one of the wolves leapt high enough and grabbed the end of the branch with his jaws and pulled down. Carla screamed and ran toward the tree as their branch bent downward. Both she and Ben clung to the tree as the wolf tried to yank the branch off.
            As the two of them clung to the tree, one of the wolves head-butted the tree and Ben lost his grip and Carla noticed him beginning to descend. She quickly reached to grab him, but she wasn’t quick enough and down Ben went.
            Carla screamed again, and just then, she heard the wolves yelping, as if something had hurt them. She looked to see why that was, and she noticed her father, her mother, and Ben’s father holding dart guns where one blows through one end and launches a dart by the force of their air. Given how far away they were, she judged that they must have had very powerful lungs.
            Ben fell in the midst of wolves that were too distracted by the fluid leaking into their veins to gobble him up. He quickly ran back up the tree and got next to Carla. Eventually, the wolves ceased moving about and fell unconscious. They then heard their names called by their parents, and they were told to come down quickly and go with them back to the village.
            Carla’s parents initially thought that the wolves had trapped them for several hours, but Carla confessed the true story in their presence, in Ben’s, and his parents’ as well. She apologized for her disobedience, and her father yelled at her in his grief and sent her to her room. She cried, not because she was yelled at, but because of the pain she put others through, and that she had dishonored God through her actions today.
            She lay on her bed and confessed to Him what she had done and to be drenched in His forgiveness. The sin and the lies felt good to her in the moment, but it nearly cost five people their lives. What if the wolves had noticed their parents and went after them?
            She saw Ben the next day and apologized to him again, and said to him that if he didn’t want to be her friend anymore, then she would understand and put up no rebuttal. However, he seemed even friendlier to her now than before, telling her that if he couldn’t forgive her, then he’d be the biggest hypocrite in the history of the universe. He said to her that even if she shoved him into a raging river, he’d still forgive her and be friends with her.

Moral: Love covers a multitude of sins.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

New Word War Website!

I just created a new site for all you WriMos out there (like myself) who can't get in enough writing. Check out the forum here and comment if you have any questions about it:


Everyone has their favorite: the heat of summer, the beauty of spring, the cool winds of autumn or the quiet frozen landscapes of winter. And because we have our favorite, we most likely have a set of favorite things we do during those seasons. But how does that affect your writing? Do you write more during your favorite season, or do you prefer to do things that are not related to writing?

          My favorite season is autumn. What isn’t there to like? Cool weather, marching bands, Thanksgiving, leaves changing colors, NaNoWriMo, and the houses decked with Christmas lights weeks before Christmas. It’s all so festive; I can’t help but say that autumn is my favorite season!
          Because I’ve related autumn to NaNoWriMo for nine years now, this season does affect my writing in a certain way. I can’t really say that it makes my writing “better,” but it’s easier for me to get into the mood of writing a lot because I know thousands of others around the globe are also doing it. It has nothing to do with the weather; it has more to do with engaging in a journey with myriads of others to that golden 50K horizon.

          I enjoy the other seasons too for other reasons. I love winter because it has Christmas (it’s about Jesus, so it can’t get better than that!), New Year’s Day, and cool weather. Spring has Easter, as well as the end of school; and summer has Drum Corps International and is school-free. I should also note that it was during this past summer that I actually write my first 100K-word novel ever. Though it wasn’t autumn, I felt inspired enough to write and complete it.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Back to my Blog...

I know I haven't posted in a while, and I'm sorry about that. I'm working on a novel right now and I'll post some details soon ^.^