K – Kindess

I guess I have overcome a lot in my life. At times this is not really easy to see. I surrounded myself with self defeating imagery in the hopes that it will help me see reason. But it never works.

I know that others have it worse.

I know that I am in a better place.

I know it.

I see it

But that doesn’t always help.

I am so used to it and do not know how to change it. If I am being honest here, I think I need it. I have spent so many years of my life hating myself and others around me that it is pretty much the only way I can tell that I alive.

I think I made a comment about how I am not good with “positive” stories. I do not do love. Or happiness. Or joy. Not unless someone is suffering in someway. I fully admit that this makes me an edge queen and quiet possibly makes me seem a bit immature.

But…this is my therapy. This is how I heal.

I may surround myself with negativity but it is the only way I can used to things.

Send it below or Fucking use it

I remember the day I told my friend that I would use this very qoute from her book. I was maybe 16 and have since lived by it.

My past defines me because it gives me the ability to create this things. I use it. So with my pain, and lonliness, and heartache, and stress, what am I?

So yea…I do not think I would have a purpose without it. I may never ever really get better and I am ok with that.

It is a kindess to believe otherwise and I just do not have the space for that.

Still I respect it all the same.

G – Gripping

I am not a fan of writing cliches, acually, I am a huge fan but I am not always tolerant of them.

The basic bad boy who turns his life around thanks to naive little pretty girl who think she is ugly.

Of course they have the techy (or sassy) best friend who is constantly by their side.

They are cliches because they work. We see the princess ready to leave her dull and unappreciative world behind and we wiggle in our seats. We see the handsome warrior who could kill with a single touch bow down to a common women.

“Love is a fickle thing” , we sigh into our drink cups. Clutching our books closer to our face.

But

There is still a problem with them.

Cliches allow readers to a greater understanding of where the story might be going. Rarely do we get stories that pan out a different way. YAs usually end with the girl getting with the outcast. The only times she ends up with the guy who “socially acceptable” is when the other ends up being a villian or is a tool.

The young boy who is trying to avenge his family will manage to do so but it will always come at a cost. His mentor or a family member will die within the first few books, maybe even the first few chapters. He may end up with a love interest but rarely will they stay together.

So I always know what story I am getting when I start to read. I know how it will end even if I do not know all the details that will lead to that point.

As I said before, cliche are considered such because they are overused but because they also work. There are only so many ways a story can go and patterns are really hard to deviate from. Yet, many readers and publishing companies expect writers to always be original no matter what. If they are not then there is a good chance their book will not be accepted.

Should we celebrate that fact?

I do not think so.

I despise cliches but I also love them. I am comforted by the fact that I can see the ending a mile away. Because I live for the journey. I live for those moments where the author gives me something I was not expecting. Like a book in which the sick person truly does die at the end.

Or a story where the boy was not able to avenge his family.

A story where the couple breaks up at the end

Or maybe one where, dispite the odds stacked against them, the villian is the one who wins.

I love those moments of uncertainty and I love those moments of clarity.

I guess it is the weirdo in me.

Back in my day…

As a child I read a lot of books that were probably really bad for me. Romance novels, mystery novels, novels where someone important died at end and I was to little to realize that crying over fictional characters would get me laughed at as I aged. I am totally over that though, no hard feelings towards people who made fun of my…well.. my feelings. I am going on a tangent here…

See, back in my day romance had a different flavor. I was to little to understand how authors battled each other for the spotlight. To me they wrote for the fun of it and weren’t oppressed by societies expectations. They did not feel the same pain us lowly untalented plebs went through. It was until I was older that I learned any differently but still I drowned myself in the worlds of others. Teaching myself to see through their eyes with a greater understanding then my peers. I wanted to witness love from places reality could not touch.

So is it any wonder that I feel in love with R.L Stine‘s Fear Street Series.

Yes, I know what you are thinking “R.L Stine isn’t a romance writer”. In this you would be correct but the thing is romance written for children and young adults do not look the same for romances for adults. We get things like Hunger Games, Twilight, Looking For Alaska, Remember me, and Green Angel. Books that may have some romantic elements but cover a wide range of other genres. These are our introductions into the world of romance. As adults we will get to read books that are actually centered about the idea of love but until then we are traumatized into thinking that the dude with the murder boner for innocent people is our fated mate.

So yea, I got my twisted ideas of romance on the lap of the dude who gave us Goosebumps.

Back in my day bad boys ruled the world. The badder the better. I feel in love with the maniac murderer because he was the only one to treat the protagonist with any sort of kindness. I mean sure, he shot some dude in the face but true love concurs all. OK yea, he was stalkish and creepy, but did you hear him describe the way she looked as he watched her while she was sleeping.

Swoon




Theme Reveal

This year I will try to move away from my comfort zone. I tend to talk about some really depressing stuff so this years theme is Love.

Yep, you heard right.

I am going to focus in love and all the gooy lovely dovey I will never have ness that comes with it. No more depressing Jessi (unless the story calls for it) I am a whole new person this month.

What this means is that I will be both reviewing books and writing poems dealing with this topic. Some of the romance books won’t be just pure romance (I need that meaty plot) but I try to make it so every book I read main focus is on romance with other stuff more background. So bring on those devine sweat producing, hand fanning, hallelujah singing romance novels. I got my tea, my blanket, and my unicorn plushy ( property-of-daughter–with-extreme-caution-from-momma)

*Cue confused screaming*

And Scene

Day 3

A book you love.

I love a lot of books so this one will be extremely difficult.

I guess to make it easier I can explain what types of books I love. I am a sucker for romance. Not to say I will not read a book without it but 9/10 I am more likely to reach for a book that has some of romance in it.

I love a good book with a believable plot. That no matter how farfetched it may be it can still seem like reality if you don’t really think about it hard enough. There are some stories where something happens that is unbelievable. I am reading a book where dogs can turn into people. There is no clear explanation of why this happens, only that it does when the dog forms a deep and unbreakable bond with their families. This doesn’t happen for all dogs of course. What makes it somewhat annoying to me is just how easily people accept this. All the love interest are totally ok with their S.O turning into dogs. Like completely ok with this. So far, in the three books I have read, no one has really freaked out about it aside from a group of villains. And who wouldn’t freak out when you have a a group of various breeds of dogs coming at your throat and one just killed your accomplice. He had every right to panic.

The thing is, no one else does.

I also read another book. An amazing book that I love where the main character is an artist who suffers from a mental illness. This illness makes it so he has episodes of extreme anger and distrust. He is extremely promiscuous and wishes others to hurt him even if they do not want to. He is all shades of messed up (ha see what I did there) and needs help. He manages to not only befriend some random good person but have them fall in love with him as well. A seemingly straight guy he so happened to find and bone turned out to be this amazing dude who ends up loving him with all his soul. Now this isn’t a spoiler. You could see this coming from the get go. What I do not get, and can’t believe, is how much abuse this guy is willing to put up with for a guy he doesn’t know. No one in this side of reality does things like that. Especially with everything he put him through. Even I, who suffers from the same disability as the protagonist, would have said duces a long time ago. They are complete strangers and took insta-love to a whole new level.

Now despite these little pet peeves of mine (don’t worry I got plenty) I still love this books and their authors.

I love a book that confuses me. That makes me react. That makes me want to throw it down and scream at everyone and everything. I want to cry, I want to laugh,I want that when I finish a book and look up, I see the world in a different light.

It doesn’t have to happen all at once but a combination of the above must be going on for me to want to read it. There are series I never get tired of and there are others I can’t ever read again despite how amazing it was.

I grew up with Harry Potter being my freaking bible. Where Scary Stories to tell in the Dark truly scared the shit out of me. When R.L.Stine made me question my sanity (I was nearly always in love with the bad guy). All that has crossed into my adulthood. If I am not questioning my sanity after reading a book was it really worth It?

Today I am going back to years beyond and am reading The Tricksters Choice by Tamora Pierce. This is one series I can read over and over again without getting bored and still find something new to love about it.

Maybe I will even write a review for it. Who knows.

Pulled By The Darkness

Newest story by me. 

I am on a short story and this is the first time things have actually gone well for. I am making good progress, and am nearly done with the part that can be read in the anthology. 

The anthology being the one I want to submit my work to. I have to get things done quickly so that I have chance if being accepted. I am just super excited and happy about this story. 
It is about a little girl who must figure out who she was and why she was created. There is a group of people who have kept her pretty shelted since all her life. Despite her age, she is really innocent. She sees the harshness in life but still just goes through the motions. Not really noticing much unless it  happens to her directly. She is pretty nuch your average kid. But there is something that makes her different from the rest. She can’t age at all. She is forever stuck in the body of a young girl. 

She doesn’t question why bit eventually events starts to occure that make her question what is truly normal for all. 
There is more to thus but I came about this idea from a picture I found online.

I love this picture and the words with it cause it fits. I often push people away because I feel that I am not worth the risk. That no matter what, people will leave. 

This reached me and I wanted to write a story for this picture. This girl is so inncent yet she knows the cruelness og this world. She is not yet jaded enough to fear it. She still believes that it can be saved. She is a scared tiny girl. I do not want her to grow up. I want this innocence to stay with her throughout this story. I want her to be unfazed by the darkness but still bask in the light. 

She will be my neutral ground.