Keep a look out for its release in the next couple weeks.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Cover
In case you haven't already seen it pasted all over facebook, this is the cover of my book. Like it? Love it? Want some more of it?
Keep a look out for its release in the next couple weeks.
Keep a look out for its release in the next couple weeks.
Monday, May 21, 2012
My Evolution as a Writer
I thought I'd give a little background history about myself in regards to my writing journey. We always love to hear stories from peoples' past, don't we?
I have always been a writer. It's part of who I am and who I have become. But I had to start somewhere, and the beginning starts with a little girl who loved to hold a book in her hand. I was fascinated by the words on a page, and of course the pictures that accompanied them. Even before I could read I would sit with a stack of books and make up my own stories as I went along. There are pictures of me on the couch surrounded by books, and I could sit for hours entertaining myself. Then when I learned to form letters into words a whole new world opened up for me and I read almost anything I could get my hands on. I remember people telling me I was so weird for reading all the time, but it's never done anything except help me.
Not too long ago I heard someone say that the way to become a better writer is to be a better reader. The more you read the stronger your writing can be. I'd like to think that this has been proven through my own life. The avid reader has become the dedicated writer.
I remember the first real story I ever wrote, and I remember being so proud of myself for accomplishing something. I'll admit that at the time I had kind of an obsession with the book "The BFG" so it's no surpise that I began with writing about giants. I could probably find the story if I looked hard enough for it, but I'll just give you a quick synopsis and save you the terrible grammer and word usage. Basically the story was about a giant who lived alone for many years, and was content until he started to grow old. He knew that he would die, but he was desperate to find some way to save himself. Eventually he meets a lady giant or witch or something who gives him the secret to everlasting life in the form of a soup. The soup turns him young again and every time he starts to grow old he makes the soup again and he never dies.
Don't judge me. I was probably five or six when I wrote this.
From there I wrote little stories here and there through elementary school. I believe my teachers saw something in me at that tender age and encouraged me to keep writing. They must have known that I had potential, and were very supportive in anything I created.
For those of you who will remember this, I hope you get a good laugh at the memory. I was so weird in fourth and fifth grade, I really don't know how I had any friends. In fourth grade one of our assignments was to write a short story that we would share with the class. I based mine on the book "Stephanie's Ponytail" and looking back I can see what my nine-year-old brain could not. It was pretty terrible. We got into small groups to share our stories and from them we would choose one to create a puppet play off of. For some reason everybody thought my story was hilarious so they picked mine and we made a play out of it. I have a video of the performance, but I think I'll condemn that to the darkest abyss.
Fifth grade began the real start of my dream to be a writer. I had this brilliant plan to be the youngest person to write a novel, and so I set out to do just that. My first attempt at writing a book was called "The Big Secret" and that's when I established myself as "the writer" among my friends and family. I loved that story to death and I thought I was brilliant and would make myself famous. I spent probably a year or so perfecting the few pages that I had, but in the end the project just sort of died. I think I realized the story was going nowhere and I lost motivation to continue.
I entered seventh grade with a less-than-postive outlook. All of my friends were in different classes with teachers that I had been told were better and more fun. I was left alone in the cruel world known as Middle School. At 12 years old I couldn't have seen the blessing that this ended up being. Throughout the school year we switched history classes three times. On the last rotation I ended up with the teacher who was also teaching my English class at the time. We studied the medieval period and towards the end she gave us an assignment to write a 1 1/2 to 2 page story centered around this time. Let me tell you, I did not want to do this assignment. Grudgingly I sat down to write it, and when I was finished I had ten pages typed out and a story that I thought was a masterpiece. I still have the story with me, and if you want to read it let me know and I'll post it on facebook. Just to warn you it's pretty bad, but my teacher loved it and told me that I ought to try to publish it in a magazine somewhere.
Really?
Needless to say this did not happen. But I had started something that intrigued me, and so I added a little more to the story. I fixed a sentence here and a word there and changed the names of every character but one. Before I knew it I had 15 pages, and then 20, and then 46, and so on. I thought I was officially done when I had like 60 pages, but something in the back of my mind just kept tugging at me to write a little more. I honestly don't know how many times I edited and edited and edited, but I tore that story to pieces and rebuilt it again sentence by sentence. Then, 276 pages later, I had a novel in my hands. I printed it off and let people read it and critique for me. Again, I thought I had reached the end. But I was wrong. I edited again, printed it off one more time, and got some more advice. Was I done now? Not even close. I went back to the beginning and I fixed what needed to be fixed. I probably spent over two years just on editing. Kind of insane, I know.
Here I am now, eighteen years old with that same novel in production to be published. I want everyone to know that this has been a lifelong process and that writing takes dedication. You have to want it. You have to love it. It's taken me eighteen years to get where I am today, but I know that the best years are still ahead of me and that my journey as a writer never has to end.
I have always been a writer. It's part of who I am and who I have become. But I had to start somewhere, and the beginning starts with a little girl who loved to hold a book in her hand. I was fascinated by the words on a page, and of course the pictures that accompanied them. Even before I could read I would sit with a stack of books and make up my own stories as I went along. There are pictures of me on the couch surrounded by books, and I could sit for hours entertaining myself. Then when I learned to form letters into words a whole new world opened up for me and I read almost anything I could get my hands on. I remember people telling me I was so weird for reading all the time, but it's never done anything except help me.
Not too long ago I heard someone say that the way to become a better writer is to be a better reader. The more you read the stronger your writing can be. I'd like to think that this has been proven through my own life. The avid reader has become the dedicated writer.
I remember the first real story I ever wrote, and I remember being so proud of myself for accomplishing something. I'll admit that at the time I had kind of an obsession with the book "The BFG" so it's no surpise that I began with writing about giants. I could probably find the story if I looked hard enough for it, but I'll just give you a quick synopsis and save you the terrible grammer and word usage. Basically the story was about a giant who lived alone for many years, and was content until he started to grow old. He knew that he would die, but he was desperate to find some way to save himself. Eventually he meets a lady giant or witch or something who gives him the secret to everlasting life in the form of a soup. The soup turns him young again and every time he starts to grow old he makes the soup again and he never dies.
Don't judge me. I was probably five or six when I wrote this.
From there I wrote little stories here and there through elementary school. I believe my teachers saw something in me at that tender age and encouraged me to keep writing. They must have known that I had potential, and were very supportive in anything I created.
For those of you who will remember this, I hope you get a good laugh at the memory. I was so weird in fourth and fifth grade, I really don't know how I had any friends. In fourth grade one of our assignments was to write a short story that we would share with the class. I based mine on the book "Stephanie's Ponytail" and looking back I can see what my nine-year-old brain could not. It was pretty terrible. We got into small groups to share our stories and from them we would choose one to create a puppet play off of. For some reason everybody thought my story was hilarious so they picked mine and we made a play out of it. I have a video of the performance, but I think I'll condemn that to the darkest abyss.
Fifth grade began the real start of my dream to be a writer. I had this brilliant plan to be the youngest person to write a novel, and so I set out to do just that. My first attempt at writing a book was called "The Big Secret" and that's when I established myself as "the writer" among my friends and family. I loved that story to death and I thought I was brilliant and would make myself famous. I spent probably a year or so perfecting the few pages that I had, but in the end the project just sort of died. I think I realized the story was going nowhere and I lost motivation to continue.
I entered seventh grade with a less-than-postive outlook. All of my friends were in different classes with teachers that I had been told were better and more fun. I was left alone in the cruel world known as Middle School. At 12 years old I couldn't have seen the blessing that this ended up being. Throughout the school year we switched history classes three times. On the last rotation I ended up with the teacher who was also teaching my English class at the time. We studied the medieval period and towards the end she gave us an assignment to write a 1 1/2 to 2 page story centered around this time. Let me tell you, I did not want to do this assignment. Grudgingly I sat down to write it, and when I was finished I had ten pages typed out and a story that I thought was a masterpiece. I still have the story with me, and if you want to read it let me know and I'll post it on facebook. Just to warn you it's pretty bad, but my teacher loved it and told me that I ought to try to publish it in a magazine somewhere.
Really?
Needless to say this did not happen. But I had started something that intrigued me, and so I added a little more to the story. I fixed a sentence here and a word there and changed the names of every character but one. Before I knew it I had 15 pages, and then 20, and then 46, and so on. I thought I was officially done when I had like 60 pages, but something in the back of my mind just kept tugging at me to write a little more. I honestly don't know how many times I edited and edited and edited, but I tore that story to pieces and rebuilt it again sentence by sentence. Then, 276 pages later, I had a novel in my hands. I printed it off and let people read it and critique for me. Again, I thought I had reached the end. But I was wrong. I edited again, printed it off one more time, and got some more advice. Was I done now? Not even close. I went back to the beginning and I fixed what needed to be fixed. I probably spent over two years just on editing. Kind of insane, I know.
Here I am now, eighteen years old with that same novel in production to be published. I want everyone to know that this has been a lifelong process and that writing takes dedication. You have to want it. You have to love it. It's taken me eighteen years to get where I am today, but I know that the best years are still ahead of me and that my journey as a writer never has to end.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Let Us Always Remember
How many friends can you make before your heart gets full? I think that you can never have too many. I never thought that I would find real friendship on a sports team, but all you tennis girls have proved me wrong. I want to say that I will miss you all, and that saying goodbye to you guys and the team is harder than I ever thought it would be.
Over the past years we have run together, complained together, played together, and most of all, laughed together. One of our team goals was unity, and I cannot deny that we accomplished what we set out to do. Win or lose, at the end of the day we were still a team and we will always be a team. Even as we move on through our individual lives we will remember what it meant to be a part of this, and what it felt like to be in each other's lives.
I want you all to know that this isn't the end. We will never forget. I love you all.
Over the past years we have run together, complained together, played together, and most of all, laughed together. One of our team goals was unity, and I cannot deny that we accomplished what we set out to do. Win or lose, at the end of the day we were still a team and we will always be a team. Even as we move on through our individual lives we will remember what it meant to be a part of this, and what it felt like to be in each other's lives.
I want you all to know that this isn't the end. We will never forget. I love you all.
I really love this song. I don't want to say goodbye
Now let's take a look back at some of our best times together. I'm sorry I don't have very many pictures from this season.
Girls Tennis Team: 2011
I hope I can be forgiven for putting this one on here...I'm sorry, I just had to.
Becca and I when we played doubles together!
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