five on friday

Soundtrack: Two Doors Down by Mystery Jets
Word Count: 1963 starting entirely from scratch, but hey, that's 1963 words I'm actually semi proud of!

I've decided to start another weekly segment because Teaser Tuesday has been a lot of fun--and good motivation to actually post something. Five on Friday (I keep thinking there's a bad joke to be made out of the title but nothing comes to mind--ideas?) will basically consist of me--if you weren't tired enough of that already--listing five things about a random topic.
This Friday, because my WIP is really the only thing on my mind (but don't be fooled into thinking that means it's any good), I give you the following:

Five Facts about my Work In Progress:

1. My main character's name is Emma. It's a pretty common name which is a new thing for me, the girl who was constantly searching out new, unusual names for characters (believe me, one abstract noun is often enough). I also know a girl named Emma which sometimes makes it hard to picture scenes.
2. It was inspired by this picture:
3. Emma doesn't know how to swim. She grew up in a small beach town but never learned how to swim which later becomes a major plot point--more like a very mushy, aww-worthy scene where the hero tries to teach her.
4. Emma is a photographer. That basically means I need to look up all sorts of facts on shutter speed and exposure--or, at least, I should. I'm currently too busy pushing through a crappy first draft.
5. It's the summer romance of WIPs. It takes place during the summer in a town with perpetual sunshine and the perfect surfing beach. I've never written anything like this before and I really want to finish the rough draft by the end of the August, mainly because if I try to work on it in the fall (or, God forbid, winter) I'll probably swap every mention of sand with snow and make everyone shiver a lot.

So that's my first 'Five on Friday' and that's a quick look at my current work in progress. What are you working on right now? Is the summer staining your work sunny yellow and sky blue?

Love,
Erika

Jellicoe Road

I've decided to start doing the occasional book review just because, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. For my first review, I was having some trouble deciding on a book when I realized, obvious, On the Jellicoe Road is the perfect solution. Not only did I read it recently but it was an outstanding read from start to finish.

"What do you want from me?" he asks. What I want from every person in my life, I want to tell him. More.

Abandoned by her mother on Jellicoe Road when she was eleven, Taylor Markham, now seventeen, is finally being confronted with her past. But as the reluctant leader of her boarding school dorm, there isn't a lot of time for introspection. And while Hannah, the closest adult Taylor has to family, has disappeared, Jonah Griggs is back in town, moody stares and all.

In this absorbing story by Melina Marchetta, nothing is as it seems and every clue leads to more questions as Taylor tries to work out the connection between her mother dumping her, Hannah finding her then and her sudden departure now, a mysterious stranger who once whispered something in her ear, a boy in her dreams, five kids who lived on Jellicoe Road eighteen years ago, and the maddening and magnetic Jonah Griggs, who knows her better than she thinks he does. If Taylor can put together the pieces of her past, she might just be able to change her future.

This was a fascinating read and I loved every minute of it. For starters, Taylor Markham is an awesome narrator. She's fiery and sticks up for herself which is a welcome relief from a lot of YA books I've read. She speaks her mind--and not just when it helps her get the guy, either, because she's true to herself. I also loved Jonah Griggs because his personality fit Taylor's so perfectly--they can both act like total assholes and neither backs down from their confrontations.

The intertwining stories mesh past and present in a way that's so well edited that it leaves you begging for more of both. All of the characters leap off the page. One downside, however, it took (me, anyways) a little while to get into the story. It was totally plot driven but, for the first few pages, I was kind of skeptical. Totally worth the time and perseverance, though.

On the Jellicoe Road was one of those books that I had to put down every few chapters just to freak out. I would read something so beautiful or surprising or horrible, put it down and scream for a few minutes. It's totally worth it, if even just for those moments.

I highly recommend On the Jellicoe Road to all YA lovers. People who normally gravitate to books with male narrators might be pleasantly surprised by Taylor's no nonsense, sometimes erratic voice. It was a great read.

Check out the author, Melina Marchetta (Australian author of several other books including Saving Francesca, Looking for Alibrandi and, most recently, The Piper's Son) at her website.

So what do you think--book reviews?

Love,

Erika

perspective

Soundtrack: Halo/Walking on Sunshine by Glee Cast

I've been reading Steph Bowe's blog a lot lately. Once I got over my original, I hate you! You're published at 16! Argh! reaction, I've found a lot of cool stuff. For instance, in reaction to another article where someone said:

Well written, publishable books by teen writers are definitely the exception, but that doesn't mean they don't happen.

Steph Bowe wisely replied: Well written, publishable books by adult writers are also an exception. A beginning writer is a beginning writer, and it doesn’t matter how old they are.

I think that's pretty cool.

Love,
Erika

my life in pictures

Soundtrack: Let's Dance to Joy Division by The Wombats

We've all heard the old saying, right? "A picture's worth a thousand words." So, get 60-70 pictures and you've got yourself a novel! Okay, maybe my methods of avoiding any actual writing aren't all that successful.

In my current WIP, my main character, Emma, is a photographer. Originally she was an artist but that was mainly just my way of filling in scenes--"Oh, you're not doing anything? SKETCH!"--and I think photography fits her shy personality a lot better. Anyways, this has got me looking to pictures for visual inspiration. I've gotten pretty addicted to weheartit.com, a photo sharing site. All of the pictures below are basically my plot.

How do you get inspired? Are you a visual person? Let me know.

Love,
Erika

teaser tuesday

Soundtrack: Monkey!!! Knife!!! Fight!!! by Minus the Bear

It's still Tuesday for a few more hours! Today wasn't a very productive day. I sat around the house, moping about how I'll never finish a book... Yeah, it got kind of ugly. But--there is a but and it's a big one, ha-ha, two year old humor--at seven o'clock I met with two of my friends to discuss writing. It was really cool and just what I needed, thanks guys :)

Anyways, we got to talking about post-apocalyptic stories and when I got home I dug out the following, a very old opening to a story called "The Golden City". I've only been outlining for my current WIP (more like re-outlining) and fleshing out characters--nothing teaser worthy, to be honest.

So, here goes:

“Your house is burning.”

The whole table goes quiet when Travis speaks. As if his deadly serious grey eyes weren’t enough, there’s something about his voice that has me smelling smoke.

We recover quickly, and soon enough I remember that I’m in the school cafeteria with nothing endangering my life but the near-toxic macaroni and cheese. But there could be.

It’s called Survival and it’s a game that we’ve been playing since we were kids. One person thinks of a scenario and the rest of us have to come up with a way to get out of it alive. It’s training in case something like that really does happen one day, and everyone takes it seriously. But if it were a real game, I’d say Travis’s piercing gaze and steely cold voice are two majorly unfair advantages.

“Is it serious?” my best friend Pen speaks up first. Her eyes are closed and I can tell that she’s visualizing.

“Yes,” Travis says and for some reason he sounds amused, like he’s talking to a child. That’s one of the reasons I don’t like him. He talks down to Penelope just because she takes Survival so seriously. Well, hell, if she actually wants to survive then I don’t think anyone should make fun of her for it.

“The whole place is up in flames. It’s total chaos.”

“Am I injured? Any smoke inhalation?” Erin, a girl with dark curly hair and an unbelievable IQ, has to push her glasses back up after she leans in too far, eager to play.

“Nope, you’re fine,” Travis says and Erin blushes when he looks at her.

“Wait a sec,” the boy next to me speaks up. I think his name’s Christian, and he’s all muscle. I’m surprised to hear him say anything; like me he tends to listen while the others work out all of their life or death situations. “Am I actually inside the house?”

I don’t know why, but Travis is staring at me. Not just a quick glance like he sometimes sneaks in study hall when he doesn’t think I’m looking. His stone-gray eyes are locked on mine, and I put my turkey sandwich down, impossible to concentrate on anything other than him. That’s the other reason I can’t stand Travis O’Shea. The fact that I’m just a tiny bit in love with him.

Everyone else at the table clues in and follows Travis’s gaze. With all of their eyes on me, I can feel my face heating up. I think Erin is whispering something, but it’s only Travis’s voice I hear, and what he says sends a chill up my spine.

“No. But your family is.”

The table goes quiet again, but this time it’s more like the quiet before the serial killer jumps out of the closet in a horror movie. Everyone’s waiting for Travis to yell, “Just kidding!” or something. But he doesn’t, and when what he said starts to sink in. Travis crossed a line. It might not have been said out loud, but everyone knows that you don’t bring family into Survival.

Everyone’s silent, but they haven’t moved. They’re still staring right at me, some looking surprised or afraid, but a few glaring like I’m to blame for what Travis said. I don’t look at any of them, though. I’m determined to match Travis’s challenging gaze once and for all. I’d be lying if I said that the idea of having my family—especially my little brother—inside a burning building didn’t freak me out, but I don’t want him to know that.

Even though my heart is raising and I can practically hear my brother Henry’s screams, I don’t look away.

Pen clears her throat and I’m reminded of why I love her so much. “A-Are they near a window or a d-door?” she chokes, fighting back tears.

Pen has little brothers and sisters, too, but the oldest is only seven years old, not like Henry who’s in eighth grade. Travis slowly turns to look at her, reluctantly breaking eye contact, and I shoot her a grateful smile. She nods, but I know what we’re both thinking. Henry could get out—they couldn't.

Travis shakes his head. “It’s a two story house and they’re upstairs. The fire is blocking the windows.”

“Call the fire department! Get some water!” Christian says, gripping the edge of the table so tight his knuckles are white. I've never met his family, but you can tell we all have something to lose.

“With what phone?” Travis raises his eye brows. “What if you’re out in the country, no lakes or ponds anywhere...” his gaze flits back to me for barely a second, but it’s long enough. I live in the country, in a small two story house half an hour outside of town. Does Travis know more than he’s letting on?

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can someone stands up. “Stop it! Can’t you see what you’re doing—you’re just spreading fear. You stop this game right now, you... you monster!”

I’m surprised to see that it’s Erin who finally snapped and turned on Travis. She always seemed so level-headed.

“We’ve got to be prepared.” Travis says in a low voice.

"That’s your excuse? Fine then, Mr. Survival, what would you do?”

“I would...” he stops and looks around the room like he expects the answer to appear right in front of him. This time I’m looking right at him, prepared to meet his gaze when he looks over. I don’t know why, but when he speaks next, I know that it isn’t just an answer—it’s a message. “I would go back inside.”

“Then you’re dead!” Erin says but by now she’s back in her seat, under control. She sounds so tired and worn out, it’s like she’s run an emotional marathon.

Travis shrugs, “I didn’t mean that we have to be prepared to survive every situation.”

“Then what do you mean?” Erin snaps defensively and I swear it’s the most I’ve ever heard her say that isn’t in answer to a teacher’s question.

“You’ve got to be ready... to make the choice.”

That shuts her up, and she sinks down into her seat, looking defeated. It doesn’t feel like anyone’s won anything, though. I sneak a look at Pen and see that her eyes are rimmed with red, but at least she’s stopped crying. The other kids at our table—most of whom I know, at least by appearance—have all swapped their stunned looks for grim acceptance.

I look down at my sandwich, which suddenly looks horribly unappetizing. It’s an effort to bring it to my lips, but I take a bite anyways. A few kids look surprised, but after a moment everyone else starts eating, too.

If we don’t eat the teachers will get mad at us—tell us that we have to keep up our strength in case anything happens. Funny, considering the last major attack on our town was around fifteen years ago.

We don’t question it, though, we just eat. Because we have to move on.

So what do you think? Can you tell that I just finished The Hunger Games and The Forest of Hands and Teeth? It's totally unedited and UGH, I mention the color of Travis' eyes so often. *face-palm*

Love,
Erika

I heart it.

Soundtrack: Pop Goes the World by Gossip
Words: ...status pending?

I am not finished yet.

Yesterday I hung out by a campfire, sang along to Disney songs and stained my skin with charcoal and sand. It was very fun. Oh yes, convincing enthusiasm, no?

Ha-ha. Anyways, it's been hot out and the sun has thankfully been patient enough to let me sleep in until noon the past two days. All this time I've done very little writing.

In case you didn't know, I'm going to a writing camp this summer with my friend, a poet. I've also recently decided to wake up at 8:00 (oh my god, how is that physically possible?) at least three days a week to write in the morning, something I've never tried before because quite frankly, I'm ridiculously lazy. And, something that I haven't really said, I've largely given up on my ex-WIP. We had a pretty passionate week but now it's over.

This is the part where some mysterious cast member jumps out from backstage and says, "Or is it?"

I really like this story and I really want it to be finished. That might not sound like a big deal but for me, she who finishes nothing, it really would be. One problem? My main character has literally no personality. She's all over the place, and I'm having a really hard time deciding if I want her to be a shy bookworm, a cultured artist, a fierce older sister or something in between. Ugh.

All I wanted to say in this post is that I've been largely avoiding writing. Sure, I can blog about writing, read books on it, talk about it till I have nothing to say but if I don't do any actual writing, I'm never going to get any better.

And yes, it did take me this long to really figure that out :)

I'm having one of those weirdly life affirming moments--while sitting on the couch, watching the MMVAs (Much Music Video Awards). Not exactly the best setting for an OMGWTF moment. Better luck next time.

How are things going with you? I'm so amazed by people who can write steadily, a bit each day--or at least have a regular writing routine--and not get totally sick of it. How do you do it?

Love,
Erika

PS: For a seriously inspirational shot to the arm, check out weheartit.com for pictures with stories that just beg to be told.

legendary notebooks

This morning I became the proud owner of my very first Moleskine.

For those of you who don't know, a Moleskine is a small notebook. It comes in several colors with the option for ruled, grid or blank pages. There's an elastic ribbon that holds it closed and an expandable pocket for all your important pieces. It's also a bit of a legend.

Moleskines are not, as I first feared, made of actual mole skin (although they are pronounced the same, as far as I know). The term was affectionately coined by Bruce Chatwin who was a proud Moleskine devotee. And he's in good company--Vincent van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway and a whole host of other writers and artists, including countless people who are alive today, writing and loving their little black notebooks.

With this post in mind, I thought finding info on my new notebook might be difficult, but so far I've gotten all these facts out of the history pamphlet that comes with the notebook. It's the little things like that that make me smile.
Moleskines are alive and well today--after a major shortage in the mid '80s. Check out moleskinerie.com for a look at "Legends and Stories"--plus some photos of celebrities with moleskines. I feel like I'm a part of something.

You see--Mollies practically ooze culture :D

One other important point to mention: they smell. It's not exactly subtle (that is, if you press your nose against the pages like I've been doing for the past few minutes). It's a bit like new car and it definitely smells like books. This is a good thing, by the way.

Obviously, I have a few apprehensions as to what to write. It's just so beautiful and so pristine--so full of class and culture--I don't want to ruin it with my angsty teen poetry or trashy words. I would normally use it as a diary but I have another ongoing journal going on in a pretty, floral notebook.

One more lovely upside of the notebook is that it's the perfect size for travel. I can imagine myself, years from now, tucking it into my pocket and catching a subway to an incredibly important event in a fabulous city like Paris, London or New York. For now, I'm about to tuck it into my jeans (if it'll fit--stupid tight pants obsessed culture!) and go to the lake for a campfire party on the beach that hardly counts as a beach because I live in Northern Canada. Not super Northern but cold enough that I don't think "beach" is the right word for it.

That said, I'm totally psyched for some new experiences, all recorded, no doubt, in handwriting (because cursive needs a revival) in my brand new friend. My Moleskine.

Love,
Erika

PS: Just discovered they're also called "Mollies"--yes, I think s/he has a new name.