wonders of writing

I know it’s a bit early to be thinking about it, but I’ve got NaNo on my mind, and I’m wondering what I’m going to write for it, this year. There are many possibilities.

So, once I figure it out, I’ll probably start planning. Work on plot, flesh out the characters, maybe do a few exercises that include the characters or something. 😀 I think that would be fun. :3

Maybe I’ll even write a prequel to the NaNo, just to get an idea of what I want to write. The prequel won’t be novel length, probably just a short story that is going to be either one or somewhere around five chapters long. Something.

Anyways, I know this blog is really short, but you know. I felt like posting something.

So who else is participating in NaNoWriMo, this year?

Forget Me Not is my newest work in progress. It’s a Harvest Moon fanfiction. I’m mostly just having fun with it, so you don’t have to like it or anything, but I’m going to share with you the prologue!

Forget Me Not: Prologue

Today was the day.

My mother decided randomly a few weeks ago that she was going to ship me off to some place called Forget-Me-Not Valley for the summer, where I would be staying with her best friend from college, Vesta. I didn’t even know who Vesta was, and I most certainly have never heard of this stupid valley, either.

Thus, I questioned why my mother was doing this to me.

“I think it will be a good experience for you. Country life is different from city life, very different. You might even find yourself enjoying it, after a while,” she reasoned. I scoffed.

“A good experience?! But mom! All of my friends are here, and Forget-Me-Not Valley just sounds so lame. Please don’t make me go!” I begged and begged, but no matter how annoying I was, she refused to give in to my pleas.

“You can make new friends, there. Vesta has a son who is a couple of years older than you… Maybe you two will… get along, yes?” She giggled after her suggestion, while I rolled my eyes at her not-so-subtle exclamation.

“Right, because I’m totally into hillbilly boys who are constantly covered in dirt.”

“Caroline Roxanne! You don’t even know what you’re talking about. So quit it with the attitude. You’re going to Forget-Me-Not Valley whether you like it or not!”

“But—, ”

“No. You’re going and that’s final.”

So. I’m sick. I got pink eye Monday, and it’s just now starting to go away. My throat feels swollen and it hurts, plus I have a cough and a stuffy nose half the time. It all just sucks. I want to be healthy again. Guess who’s making new life choices after this? I am. I’m going to start exercising regularly and I’m going to start making healthier eating choices. I WANT TO BE HEALTHYYYY!

Anywho, I started writing a fanfiction. OHMYGOODNESS, who would’ve thought? I mean, normally, I hate writing fanfictions because I don’t like using other peoples’ characters… But, I think I’m warming up to them. Very. Very. Very. Slowly. In fact, I think writing a fanfiction will be good for me. It’ll be good writing practice.

Not to mention, it’s a Harvest Moon fanfiction, so it can’t possibly be that difficult to write, no? Harvest Moon is very flexible. I do whatever the fudge I want in that game… As long as I’m making money and keeping my farm alive. I even planted trees. 😀 ‘Cause, you see, I have to find myself a hubby, and I want to marry this dude named Marlin. Or the phantom thief, Skye. Either one of those two. I know I probably sound crazy, right about now. But don’t worry, this all makes sense to me, and right now, that’s all that matters.

So yeah. I’m writing my first legitimate fanfiction. Woo! Go me! Ahaa, I’m actually really looking forward to writing this.

Note: I should write more. It makes me happy.

I’ve been struggling with self-esteem issues for about a year, now. I mean, who doesn’t? But a year ago, there was a moment where I was proud to be who I was, who I am. I loved being myself. But a few ugly words, and I found my self-esteem crashing down to the ground. Splat, and it was nearly gone. It was awful, really. I’d sit at home, looking at pictures of my friends, told myself I would never be as pretty as them, and whatnot. I kept putting myself down, which was no help to the all time low that my self-esteem had become.

For a while, and still now, I attempt(ed) to change things about myself. Mostly my appearance, but sometimes I tried to change my attitude, too. Like, every few weeks, I have this new image of myself in my head, and that if I can become that person, I’ll be much happier with myself.

First, I wanted to be scene, then I wanted to dress indie, then I wanted to be a combination of both, and then I wanted to dress geeky, you know that new style “geek chic” ? Yeah, I wanted to dress like that. A part of me still wants to dress like the aforementioned labels, but every time I’ve tried or try to change, I give up and go back to t-shirts and jeans, something simple and easy. And when I go back to that, I hope that I’m that sort of girl that no matter what she wears, she always looks cute in it. Though, I doubt that is the case. But whatever.

While trying to build my self-esteem back up, I started listening to music and songs that sang about loving who you are. I listened to “This Is Me,” by Demi Lovato, “Never Be What You Want,” by We Are The In Crowd, “I’m Not That Girl” and “Defying Gravity” from the musical Wicked, and stuff like that. My collection of self-motivating songs has grown considerably with Selena Gomez’s “Who Says,” P!nk’s “F***in Perfect,” Glee Casts’ “Loser Like Me” and so on. They helped considerably, for the most part.

My best friend helped me out a lot, too. You might know of her. Her name’s Amanda Dedie. I confessed to her one day that I was struggling with my self-esteem, which I don’t think anyone really suspected. To everyone, I’m that happy-go-lucky girl who’s life seems perfect when it really isn’t. I have so many internal battles/conflicts with myself, and my self-esteem has been the biggest one by far. ANYWAYS, back to Amanda (or ‘Manda,” as I call her!). After I confessed, the next day that I walked into my school, I found the front of my locker COVERED in blue post-it notes, all with compliments and such. It was slightly embarassing because my locker now stuck out like a sore thumb, but I quickly got over it, appreciating all that was written on those sticky notes. AND THEN, when I opened my locker, there were numerous pieces of papers taped to the walls of my locker, all with compliments and things from friends. I had a pretty good day, that day, needless to say. And my self-esteem had a nice boost, too. Which was good. Definitely good.

It’s been a while since then, and slowly but surely, I’m getting there. I don’t know if I’ll ever get my self-esteem back completely, because I’m sure a lot of people struggle with it just as much as I do. But I want there to be one moment in my life where I’m just content with my life, where I can be my complete and utter self, the raw and imperfect person that I am, and be happy with it, not caring about anything else. I’ll be happy, finally, that I am me, that I am just me, and being me is the best I can be. I mean, as Kurt Cobain said (I’m pretty sure it was him),

“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”

I don’t want to feel this way anymore, where I feel like I have to look a certain way (in my mind, anyway) in order to finally be happy with myself. I just want to be happy, no matter what. I want to be myself, and I want to like that without having a doubt in my mind.

I just want to be.

“Giving up so soon, Addie?”

“Just go away! Honestly, am I talking to a wall?”

“No, I’m much cooler than a wall.”

It must have been something in the way that he said it, or maybe it was just what he said, but my angry huffing and puffing about quickly turned into a burst of laughter, to which Oli had no problem joining in on.

A student nearby sent a loud “Shh!” in our direction, and I quieted myself almost immediately. Oliver and I were smiling widely at each other, attempting not to break into another fit of giggles.

“You’re so annoying,” I whispered to him. He just shrugged, a grin still playing at his lips.

“Like I said earlier, it’s my job.”

“I know.” I turned my back to him, then, eyeing the aisle of books we were in. It seemed that I had ended up in the children’s book section with various fairytales and silly stories that I used to love. My eyes scanned over every title, skipping over those I didn’t recognize and pausing to remember the ones I loved.

“Hey, look at this one,” Oliver murmured. I turned around to face him again, only to find him holding a large, brown, leather-bound book with a title I was not familiar with, in his arms. Making my way over to him, I peered down with admiration at the book, wonderment coursing through my mind. 

The Storybook; those were the only two words on the cover, a golden border inlaid around them. It was a simple design, yet it was fascinating.

“Open it,” I uttered softly, watching as he did what I had told him to do. Oliver flipped through the many pages, all of them torn at the edges with old age, and… 

“Every single page is blank.”

I was the one to say it, glancing up at Oliver to see what he thought. He was shaking his head slowly, mind blown at the possibility.

“Why would they have a book where all of the pages are blank, Adaline? We must have missed something,” he muttered, returning to the cover and turning to the first page. Unlike the first time, though, there was writing on it. 

“See!” Oli exclaimed triumphantly. “I knew there had to be something. We probably just skipped the page. It’s easy to do that, you know; skip pages.” I rolled my eyes at his sarcastic tone, glaring at him in annoyance.

“Just read it,” I hissed, giving him a good shove in the arm. He frowned while his eyes studied words on the page, reading the contents aloud.

“Welcome to The Storybook, you’ve met your new fate,
Find yourself in a fairytale, one you must create,
It won’t be easy, I assure you—it’ll be an endeavor,
But there must be a happy ending, or disappear forever.“

“I swear that wasn’t there before,” I murmured in fascination, rereading the words over and over again in my head, my eyebrows soon furrowing in confusion. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver replied. “Feels like it was written just for us.”

I nodded in agreement, reaching out to run my hand down the worn page, tracing circles over the small stanza of poetry. The words shimmered in the dim light of the library, seemingly growing brighter as the minutes ticked by.

“Oliver… Is… Is it just me or are the words actually… shining?” I asked, voice shaking slightly in near-panic. The light was growing, growing until the whole book shone, and it was then that my fears were confirmed. I must be dreaming, I thought. Let me out of this fantasy.

“What the…” Oliver’s voice trailed off as the light spread around us, eventually consuming every nook and cranny of the room. I closed my eyes, keeping them shut tight, the illumination as bright as the sun, and blinding.

“Adaline!” Oliver called, sounding so distant from where I was, yet we had been so close only moments before.

“Oliver!” I screamed, my arms reaching out in the light, only to find nothing, and in a second, the light was gone, too. I must have been flying or floating in the air, because I landed harshly against a solid white substance, an “oof” emitting from my lips. Oliver had reappeared magically, falling to his bum against the same white base. I glanced at him and he stared right back at me, eyes wide. 

“Oli… Where are we?”