Little Piece...

I thought it might be fun to post a little, teeny piece of the book I'm currently editting, Accidents: Densetsu. This is the first book in the Accidents series, and this scene was added pretty recently to the second chapter of the book. It's just a fun transitional scene, really, but I think it's important because it brings up some themes that might be important in later books and it highlights Art's macabre/playful side. You can read the rest of the chapter on my webook account.

Artemis

I wandered down the south hall, letting my fingers brush along the lockers. The school had decent heating, but the lockers still felt like metal ice. Only one teacher asked where I was going. “Mrs. Lamb wanted me to get another roll of paper towels.” It was a good lie; all the teachers knew that the art teacher was notoriously messy, and that she almost never gave hall passes. The guy straightened his glasses and told me to get a move on. He watched me go, though, so I had to take the wrong hall to the supply closet until he’d walked away. I turned back and skulked to the Biology lab.
No one was using the lab, so I slipped in and went looking for Yorik. That’s what Tabor had named the human skull model that no one ever used. I sat on the edge of a desk, more or less out of view of the windows into the hall, and talked at Yorik, because I was just that desperate. “What’s it like to be dead?” I asked him seriously, running my thumbs over his teeth. “Is it interesting? Or is it nothing?” I worked his jaw for him. Tabor sometimes tried to convince people, usually our Biology teacher, that he talked to her. He’d never talked to me unless I helped him. “I don’t know anyone who believes in Heaven. If it existed, it’d probably suck. I don’t want to just... keep going... forever.” I sighed and let myself flop back on the table, holding Yorik up the way Hamlet did in illustrations. “I’m close enough as it is.”
Yorik chattered reassuringly at me, and I patted his skull plates and put him back on his shelf. The bell rang as I started back to the art room. By the time I got there, all of the students were long gone, leaving the teacher to clean up and put away everyone’s supplies. She didn’t look up. I grabbed my canvas bag and left without saying a word.

Shameless Plug

Okay, so I just found out that they've released a new edition of "Sunshine" (my favorite book ever) for YA instead of adult. I hope this means I can finally suggest it to more people. XDD I have to get my hands on a copy first, to see what - if anything - they've actually changed in the book. If "the infamous not-a-sex-scene sex scene" is gone, then I'm totally forcing the book on my language teacher. My class would be a better set of people if we read this book, as much as the guys would probably hate me for it. XD I'll be kind of sad if they took it out, even so... It's totally TMI for me, but I think it's more important to the relationship of Those Involved than I previously realized. But with it in the book, I know I won't get it past the administration as a reading book. And we really need some that are more current, in my opinion.

Anyway, if you happen to be reading this rambling shame of a blog and haven't read "Sunshine" by Robin McKinley, I highly suggest you remedy either one or the other of those conditions immediately. If you're under sixteen, please go for the one in the YA section with the golden cover. If you're over sixteen, the red cover or the building cover will be just fine.

Uh-hem. So, my creative writing course is coming to an end. The last class is Wednesday, and then the following Tuesday there's an exam. It's really been helpful - I wasn't sure if it would be, but it was. A lot of good practice. Very encouraging. Hopefully I'll get the chance to do it again next year. The moral of this story is: Don't knock it 'til you try it.

P.S. I'm in the last few pages of Anne Rice's "Interview"... That book scared the **** out of me. XDDD But I liked it. I kind of hope that, someday, I can write like her. Just trying to figure out how she came up with some of that stuff.... The mind boggles.

Insert one long, satisfying scream

That's what editting feels like. All of the annoyance and pain you went through writing in the first paste, doubled over with the neccesity to nit-pick, escaping in a drawn-out burst of energy, praying you'll get it all done before your breath runs out. And then, in the silence, the sense of accomplishment is renewed, and you can look at your (hopefully) improved work with pride.

Okay, so I'm not done editting yet. It takes a long time to edit 70,000 words. But I'm plugging away at it, getting it done so I can start looking for some outside feedback and then - finally - sending it out to agencies. My English teacher is reading it as I edit, but he's so busy that he doesn't mind how long it's taking. =P I recently finished reading his book, which he is also editting, so we've had some interesting literary convos. Take my advice, if you're a young writer: don't just talk to other young writers. Find some older, more experienced, perhaps even published authors to talk to. It shouldn't be that hard; between two of my aunts, I could get connected with dozens of published writers. Ask you relatives or teachers or even librarians if there are any local authors you could contact with writing questions. Even if it's not extremely helpful, it's a good connection, and it gives you experience in "talking shop" with other writers.

Anyhow, while the editting scene is interesting only to me, the artsy side of my life is a little less dry. I've found this cool little shop - Feels Like Ohm (yay, puns) - that sells local art, among other things, in my town. I've talked to the owner and I'm planning on bringing in some stuff for her to look at soon. Hah, if my stuff sells well, maybe I can draw instead of work this summer.

I love this blog. It's so much fun to talk to myself. <3

How Exciting

So, I need to come up with a new series title. Why?

"On June 2, 2009 Del Toro released his debut novel, The Strain, which he co-authored with Chuck Hogan. It will be the first part of a vampire trilogy."

Sigh. So, a few days ago, to kickstart the renaming, I read the dictionary. I got as far as "air", I think. Yeah, the glamorous life of an aspiring author.

For anyone crazy enough to care, here are my notes from dictionary-reading:

Animals/Plants/Monsters I could use: Aardvark, Aardwolf, Abyssinian cat, Afreet, African violets, Africander, Addax

Cool Words: Abase, Abininitio, Abysmal, Acerose, Achromatic, Acme (the definition is funny), Acrid, Aerate, Agoraphobia, Ague

And, Possible Titles: Abide, Accident

All that for two choices. XDD I kind of like Abide, nice and simple. With Accident, I was thinking about Aristotle's philosophy of accidents/essence: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Accident_(philosophy) Although I like how the concept coincides with the characters, the big problem is that very few people would think of that when seeing the title. XD

If anyone randomly stumbling across this sad excuse for a blog has any title suggestions, they would be much appreciated.

P. S. - Remember, remember, the 5th of November...

Sneak Peek

Here's a little taste of the book I'm working on now, Strain: Jeux. This scene will probably happen somewhere in the latter first 50 pages of the book. It's graphic, for fair warning.

~Artemis~

I have a bad habit. When someone pisses me off, I yell at them and run away. I did that with Eric, too. He just wouldn't listen to me. Over the one month I'd known I was pregnant, he hadn't given up telling me not to abort it. What's worse, he hadn't even really provoked me. He listened while I ranted. He didn't try to belittle my circumstances or tell me it wasn't as bad as it seemed, or even that he understood. Yet I was angry. And one night, after we'd left the dining hall to go upstairs, it all came to a head.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Has the morning sickness gotten any better?"
"No," I huffed, glaring down at my sandals. "I don't want to have this conversation again. When are you going to drop it?"
Eric looked thoughtful. His eyes were on my stomach, which is the best way to make just about anyone squeamish and uncomfortable. I was no exception. "My eyes are up here," I growled, and his head snapped up so fast I thought he must've hurt his neck.
"Sorry." He didn't answer the question. I knew what he would've said, anyway. "You know, I was thinking, would your mother take care of the baby for you? I bet she misses having kids around."
"Wrong angle," I said shortly, watching as my patience slowly ebbed away. "As far as I'm concerned, my mother will never, ever know that this even happened. That, and on the slight chance that this thing is a psycho like it's god-damn father, I don't want to saddle my mom with it. Or anyone else. There are enough crazy people in the world without my child being the next Jim Jones."
Shaking his head, Eric muttered, "The chances of it inheriting Genesis' tendencies are-"
"Shut up!" I nearly screamed, praying that nobody else had heard me. "I don't want to talk about him, or it, or this pregnancy from hell, got it?" And I left. I knew it was a stupid thing to do. As Conrad was generally keen one reminding us, the African night was full of dangers. Maybe one of them would eat me, demon spawn and all.
I wasn't lost, and that was something, at least. I kept Warwick manor to the south and headed straight up, following the little compass Eric had given me to make up for the plane vouchers, because a compass made a more interesting impression than a simple pocket watch, he said.
It wasn't long before I began to hear things. Most of what I heard was me, tripping over god knows what and jumping sideways at any little creature in the underbrush. African wildlife, spare me. I wondered what kind of predators they had around there. Eventually, I heard something that was distinctly not myself - it roared like a thunderstorm and cracked like thick limbs coming off of trees. In a moment of pure insanity I hoped whatever it was would kill me, and I went toward it.
I broke through a patch of brush and saw what I'd been looking for. On the ground, broken and dark with blood, lay something - man or animal, I couldn't tell. Above it stooped a person with the longest white-blond hair I'd ever seen. In his hands he held a dark lump that oozed between his pale fingers. His face was half-buried in the lump, and he seemed to be slurping at it like a kid trying to drink the juice out of an orange. He sensed me quickly and looked up, the lump dropping from his hands with a squelch. I couldn't help thinking that it belonged in the torn, black region of the fallen being's upper body. I still couldn't tell if the thing was a human or not, where it lay half obscured in underbrush.
The man with the blond hair dashed at me with familiar speed, and I felt his bloody hand grab the hair at the nape of my neck. His mouth was stained red - which looked more or less black in that light - but he opened it to reveal shining white teeth. "Daywalker," he hissed, and seemed to be thinking. "You smell like woman. It's been so long since I've tasted woman's blood..."
A scraping sound interrupted whatever he'd been planning, and by that point I was glad of it. My heart was hammering at my ribcage, and I'd been wondering how my mom would feel about me dying a gruesome death in Africa. The man was anxious now, and his eyes turned to the trees, as if he expected something to come down at us. "Asanbosam," he muttered, then swore under his breath. He fixed his eyes back on me. "Daywalker... in this country... I'm looking for one of my kind. He expects me. He smiles like a shark. Do you know him?"
I nodded and ducked away from him, heading back where I'd come from. I knew he would keep up. Suddenly, from beside me, I heard his voice again. "I don't drink pseudos. It was a moment of weakness." I wasn't sure if he was telling me, or reminding himself. I kept me eyes on the compass.
Once we had broken through to the Warwick Manor clearing, the blond man went blazing across the lawn - a bat out of hell. Conrad was waiting at the door.
"Protect me, Master of Council," he begged, his blood stained fingers gripping Conrad's shirt until they were as white as the Oxford themselves. "The Irons Ones want me dead."
"You should know better than to walk this country alone," Conrad muttered, separating the man from his shirt. "By God, you're a mess. Go inside."
The blond man slinked past him and into the house while I stood in yard. Conrad watched me from the top of the stairs.
"...Sorry for the trouble," I said. That was all I could think of.
Conrad's stiff countenance faded, and he laughed. His laughter was decidedly unpleasant. "I actually owe you, Artemis. I would have been sore disappointed if they'd killed him before I got to see him again."
I didn't ask who 'they' were. As often seemed to happen, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. "Well, then. You're welcome."

Get Started...

I have a blog. XDDD;; Why did I do this?


Okay, uh, basic info/what this blog will be about... Obviously, the title is Minor Writes, so I'll try to stick to that topic. I am a minor, and I do write, so that's the premise, mostly.... I'll be working on getting my book published very soon, God willing, hopefully that'll be interesting enough to blog about.


I finished my second book sometime in early December. My first book isn't worth mentioning, it was very, very bad and had entirely too many fairies in it. We'll skip that. The series I'm working on now is three books, one finished, as I said. It's a modern fantasy, and I try to work with lots of different creatures and locations... I hesitate to mention that the main character is a vampire. ^_^;; It isn't another Twilight ripoff, I swear! There isn't even any romance in it. And no werewolves. Plus, I'd already created most of the characters before I'd ever read Twilight. I was late on the bandwagon. Anyhow, the series is called Strain, and each book sub-title is in a foreign language, so the first one is Densetsu (legend) and the second is Juex (game). If you want to read the series, it's posted online at webook.com. Densetsu was recently sent to a friend of a friend for editing. Once I get her notes back and do my second draft, I'll start looking for a writing agent. I already have one I'm looking at, but it's really uncommon to get your first choice, or so I've been told... I can't wait to get some rejection letters to pin up on my wall. XD At least it'll mean I've done something.


If you read through this whole thing, God bless you. Goodnight.