Glitches in Simple Existence

My crazy kitten running around the basement, chasing the air.

A letter written, if it counts as that.

Birthday wishes given, via picture post on Facebook.

I've gotten a lot accomplished for the 23-02 hours.

Still not sleeping.

Why does a single person matter so much to simple existence? Why does it matter that this person is in another place? How is the next room any different than the next county? Yet somehow it is.

Written last night, or this morning, just after 2am.

I fell asleep somewhere close to 4am, I think. And so of course when I was woken up around 5:30am, I barely stirred. I truly woke about 9am, realizing it was most certainly not 6am and that I only barely had just enough time to make the 3hr trip and still be early enough for my plans.

When your sister turns 16 six days after you turn 21, plans are sure to be had. When you arrive in perfect timing to find the realization that she needed a physical and did not get one, plans are sadly changed. Plans that have been in place for quite literally years. But, things happen, life moves, times change and people learn. Which can be half the fun of living, sometimes. Even the hard ones, the ones you endure through to the other end. On that other end, though, you always find better than you could ever have hoped for, if you truly endure through to that end. The good times lead to better, as do the bad. You learn that as you live.

Several days off, fought for but won. You'd think it would be simpler, having had this planned since years past. But... you know, people. Mistakes happen. I'm here. It's all good.

I never seem to write anymore, just ramble.

Stories, characters, swirl in my head but never land. I need the time to discipline my thoughts, perhaps. But they can be like a flag: best shown when flying free. I only need the post to tie them down to, to keep them from tangling in the wind and the trees and getting lost on the globe in the atmosphere.

Hopefully some of this makes sense. I tend to get wordy and no one knows what I'm saying.

Quick Sketch - Sammy

"Sammy, this way."

"I know, Dean. And it's Sam, not Sammy," he mumbled in response.

Sam followed his older brother as they hunted the creature their father had been tracking. Dean insisted on calling him that, and on treating him like some little kid. He was fourteen, and he'd been hunting for years now. He just wanted a little respect for once.

He jumped when Dean stopped him with an arm across the chest. "Watch it, Sammy!"

Sam looked down. He'd nearly stepped in a trap. He sighed. He'd never get it right.

Suddenly, he was on the ground. Something had knocked him over, something that Dean was currently trying to shoot the crap out of.

John appeared through the trees on the opposite side of the thing. Together, he and Dean put that you-know-what down. It was only then that Sam realized he'd simply watched the entire fight, which had lasted only a short moment.

Failed, again.

He just wanted to be normal, yet that wasn't an option. And so he tried to be this, but he was always last in line behind his father and brother. They always took over, he was just the boring researcher who made friends with the hunted.

Hey, there. Curious?

I've been nominated for something. I'm not exactly sure what, but I guess it looks like fun, and another post couldn't hurt just now. (Thanks, wisdomcreates!)

1. Did you always love writing? I guess that depends on what you mean.
2. Do you keep a personal journal/diary? Heh. I've attempted at times, but this blog is the closest and best thing to that that I've gotten.
3. How long have you been blogging? Since November 2012? (I think.) Though I started this blog, and actual blogging in March of 2014. The first one was only made because I wasn't allowed on Facebook, but was told I could have a blog. So... I had no idea what I was supposed to do on here. U
4. Have you ever read the whole Bible? Yes.
5. If you found a baby dinosaur in your backyard, what would you do? Give it to my sister to raise.
6. Are you an oldest, somewhere in the middle, or youngest child in your family? Oldest of five. Girls.
7. What is something artsy -- other than writing -- that you enjoy doing? Music? Drawing? Painting? Dance? Photography? Etc? I don't know... several random things, I suppose.
8. What is something you like to do outdoors? Run. Does that count? A lot of things, I guess.
9. If you saw an old man with a weapon threatening your parents, what would you do? (Sorry for the dark question. It's writerly research.) Sneak up behind him.
10. What is one word that you would like people to use to describe you? Um? That's a secret.

When Life Gives You Lemons

Throw them at people. Obviously. 

Hello, darlings! I'm back.

Again.

That title was totally and entirely random.

I've been needing to write something for the most very longest time ever.

But I haven't had half a moment to actually do so.

As of right now, I have about half an hour.

Hmph.            

 

Let me tell you the story of when I was a little child.

 

I used to run through the fields and climb the trees. I used to chase the birds and gawk at the snakes. When I was a little child.

 

I couldn't be stopped, I wouldn't stop, I ran as fast as I could. I had to get to the end of this place, I wouldn't have stopped if I could.

 

Now I'm grown and the things I've known have changed so much and it's crazy. To think of the things I've come to be, now that I'm grown, a bit hazy.

 

I still run around and I go and I go and no one can think to stop me. It's just another place I'm running that race of getting to the end and victory.

 

Well. That wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

 

At least I feel a bit better now, now that I've gotten some words out.

It's been so very long.

Blue Cheese

I should not be awake right now. But I am, browsing Paper Fury. Typing this from my iPad because my internet-disabled laptop is stuck in the office and I am simply not getting out of bed, opening the door of my icebox room, walking through the gooey warmness of the hall with its abnormal heated floors, and sitting down in that office chair, just to type this post. Not when I can sit in bed and do it nearly just as well and certainly more comfortably. I do need to get myself a new laptop... Eventually. Eventually, I shall. Not long now. First, though, a job. You know, the kind that pays you that green paper people are so interested in these days.

It's 3:44am and I'm still awake. I've been listening to OneRepublic while reading The Mark of Athena. I'm on page 331 now. Yes, I'm a twenty-year-old reading the infamous Percy Jackson series and listening to a band called OneRepublic. Don't judge, they're awesome. All things considered.

!¡!spoilers beyond!¡!

to not in
an not and
but whatever
still awesome

Nico is suffocating in a jar, Leo is Sammy's great-grandson (I figured that out as soon as Frank saw the picture in Hazel's old room. Yes! Points for me.), and Annabeth is as infuriating as ever (though she does occasionally have her moments). Also, why is Annabeth even on this trip? The seven most powerful demigods, or whatever. Okay, so Jason and Percy are automatic choices because they're currently the only children of Zeus and Poseidon (besides Thalia), which are always the strongest. But Jason seems more powerful than Thalia, and I think we can assume that Percy is more so than other children of the sea god, so that works great. Besides, Jason and Percy are wonderful together (as friends). Moving on. Leo is clearly an extremely powerful son of Hephaestus. Hazel is a big three demigod and cursed with this incredible ability. Frank... well, he's got all that family heritage as well as being a son of Mars. Piper is also the most powerful of the children of Aphrodite, with her charmspeak and all. Here's my point. How does this include Annabeth? Besides the fact that she's smart (like all children of Athena) and happens to be Percy's girlfriend? Especially when you compare her to Nico, the surprisingly powerful son of Hades. He can control dead people. Annabeth or Nico? Hmm. Difficult choice. You think Jason and Percy can do amazing things when they combine talents? Imagine what Nico, Jason, and Percy could do: all three domains working together. Instead we've got Nico stuck in a deathtrance with now less than two days to live, and smartstuff Annabeth dropping her jaw every time Percy actually knows something. Maybe he was clueless in the beginning, but he's now almost seventeen with five years of demigodding under his belt. Of course he knows things.

¡!¡end spoilers¡!¡

But hey, it's all good. Shamelessly ranting over a kids' story. It's 4:01am, okay? It's all good.

Spoiler button isn't working properly. Fine. I'll go to the office. Snack on the way? Maybe...

4:31am. See you in a moment. Or two. Ish.

...and I'm back. No snack. I thought about it as I walked through the kitchen. Mentally perused the selection. But nothing. Oh, wait, I forgot about those jalapeno mozzarella cheese sticks... might go back for one of those. What I really want right now is an amazing fruit smoothie and some Oreos. Doublestuf Vanilla right now. Yes. Or Cookie Dough, always cookie dough. And YES, they DO exist. They were even DoubleStuf.

*ahem*

Honestly, I'm mostly just too lazy. Everything takes too much effort to make. And right now, cheese sticks require getting up and walking again just to walk back. Nah, I'm good.

*ahem* again

Spoiler button worked. Simple. Just couldn't do it on the iPad, because it has no 'delete' key on the keyboard. That is all.

The Ramon is gone. And there was plenty yesterday. Where have they gone?!

Okay, back to Paper Fury with me. And then maybe The Mark of Athena. Or perhaps, if I'm lucky, sleeeeeeep.

         

.

I finished the post content at 4:43. It's now 5:17am and I'm about to post. Retyping (because format

issues), proofreading, picture placement, and final formatting. Yes, it occasionally (who am

I kidding? Usually) takes that long...

It's important to me, okay?

.

The Wisdom of Solomon

Dad rented the movie "The Song" today, and so we all watched it together as we ate our dinner. It's a great movie. IMDB's summary is as follows:

An aspiring singer-songwriter's life and marriage suffer when the song he writes for his wife propels him to stardom.

Anyway. There's a part at the beginning, where Rose asks Jed, if could ask God for anything, knowing that God would say yes, what would he ask for? Jed replies that he'd ask for wisdom, and Rose tells him to just ask. Right now. And so he does.

What I'm getting at is what Rose told Jed. She made it so simple. Jed wanted wisdom, and she replied [something like], "So ask Him. Right now, just ask him." She made it so simple. And so it is.

A lot of times, it seems, we think of God more as this big, unapproachable king in the sky, ruling over us much like we might rule over the people in The Sims game. While that may contain some truth in it, there's much more to God than that. He's our Father, and he's genuinely cares about us.

Is wisdom not something that God desires every one of us to have? He's promised to give us

whatever we ask in his will. Is there ever an instance where wisdom would not be part of God's will for us? Do we not desire it? Why, then, do we think and work and wish, when we could simply ask? Sure, he'll probably use trials, temptations, to teach us this wisdom, but will he not also simply give when we need it most, if we're asking and praying for it, and leaning on Him and following his will?

If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?                                          Luke 11:11

If you're saved, we are his children. Through Jesus's sacrifice, we are made His — equal with the Son himself through his death.

If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.                            James 1:5

                          

Home Again: A Short Story

The wind howled. I pressed through the stinging white vortex swirling around me. The light was just ahead. I couldn't tell the distance in that storm, but it couldn't be far if I was seeing it.

Ten minutes later, I was pounding on the door with my fist, hoping the people inside would hear me above the wail of the blizzard.

A man came to the door. His eyes widened when he saw me.

"How... What are you doing out here?" He scooped me up in his arms like the child I was and kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot. He set me down in front of the fire and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

Before long, I was plenty warm, with a bowl of hot stew in my hands.

Wolves howled in the distance as Keith lay huddled close to the fire. Tomorrow he would journey back, which was both a good thing and bad. This search had been a disaster.

Daniel's girl was still missing. Coming back without her was worse than not coming back at all. What could he tell her mother? Saira had lost enough in Daniel's accident. Keith had made a rash promise in the moment and now he had to deal with one broken. One that involved leaving a nine-year-old girl to die in the forest, cold and alone. The thought's only accomplishment was to help his failure sear through him.

He woke before dawn. How long had he been sleeping? Not long, judging by how tired he felt. But then, he hadn't expected to sleep at all with Brielle on his mind. He must have fallen asleep praying.

Keith broke camp, checked that his fire was completely extinguished, and trudged in the direction of Saira's village. He hadn't gone far when noticed something in the snow. A disturbance irregular to forest creatures. It hadn't snowed for a few days; perhaps this was the reason. Thank you, Lord, he thought as he knelt to see what the tracks had to show him. They were the size of Brielle's, and headed northwest. Keith stood and followed the path they directed him to walk.

Not more than a mile or two from the place Keith had slept was a cabin. He should have recognized the place long before he came so close. He'd never come in the deep winter, and the snow must have disguised the area.

He pushed through the wind to reach the door and pounded hard on the wooden barrier to be heard above the sound of the wild north. Before long, the door was opened and he stumbled inside.

The man who'd let him in slammed the door firmly shut. "Keith! What are you doing out here this time of year?"

"The girl." Keith hadn't realized how cold and tired he was until he'd been engulfed by the warmth of John's cabin. "Is she here?"

"You mean Brielle? Yes, she's fine." He gestured down the hall to the bedroom. "She's still asleep."

John helped his friend out of his winter coat and hung it on the hooks near the doorway, then stoked the fire while Keith shed the rest of his gear.

"Can I get you anything?" John stood and brushed the soot off his hands. "Hungry? I just made a pot of stew last night."

"Yes, please." Keith replied. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, either.

The two men sat and talked as Keith ate. It was mid-January, and they hadn't seen each other since two summers ago. Their conversation soon turned to the girl who was the center of this visit.

"She showed up on my doorstep yesterday," John said when Keith had finished with his story. "How she survived in that cold for almost three days on her own, and without injury or illness, only God knows."

They were silent for a minute before John spoke again. "You plan on going back today?"

"Yup. Weather seems as mild as it'll get for some time." He thought of Saira, the look in her eyes and the fear in her voice when she'd told him her daughter was missing. "Her mother's worried sick about her."

"In that case, you should probably get going soon. There's another blizzard on it's way. Sooner you leave, the better."

Footsteps sounded softly in the hallway. Brielle came out in bare feet, wrapped in the blankets that John had given her the night before. She came and stood next to John, regarding Keith in a curious way.

"Do I know you?" she asked him. "I think I've met you before."

Keith smiled at her. "I was good friends with your daddy. Last I saw you, you must have been at least five, or younger."

"I remember," she said in a voice that was strong and sweet all at once. "You're the one who read to me." She shuffled across the floorboards and curled up in his lap. "Can you tell me a story now? Please?"

They left shortly thereafter. John gave them some extra food and supplies, along with goodbyes and admonishment that they travel carefully.

The snow was deep and the wind was fierce. Keith was glad for the extra supplies John had insisted they take with them. Brielle fared well for such a small girl, especially one who'd been alone in the wild in the dead of winter only the day before. She was strong, that girl. Like her mother.

Keith and Brielle arrived in the village by sundown the next day. It didn't take long for them to make their way through the marketplace to the small dwelling that was Brielle's home.

Saira appeared through the doorway while they were still a ways down the street. Brielle broke into a run. Mother and daughter embraced, after so long being apart. Keith kept walking towards them, stopping a short distance from where they stood. Saira looked to him and mouthed the words thank you, joyous tears running down her cheeks.

It was good to be home.

I ran to my mother, whose open arms enveloped me in the warmest hug I'd ever felt. I could feel her tears on my cheek as we held tight to each other, glad to be together and home again.

written by Jessy on 02.08.15 at 03:57

Black Again

Hey. Been awhile.

As the title indicates, this is Black. She may be learning Portuguese, but I don't know a word of it, and I'm not randomly obsessed with Irish, so no worries on that front. On the other hand, if your preference happens to not be English, she's added a translate button on the right for you.

Random post of the month. I'm Black, one phantom black who posted back in September. Remember that? No? Cool, then.

Black is not my given name. I do have one. Still not telling.

She's currently in Pennsylvania again. The kid is in the house. For almost a whole week, but they (two minions came) go back tomorrow. Tears and dramatic sadness, seems she. Alright, that's a bit exaggerated, but it goes something like that. Meanwhile, they read and play on devices and I sit unnoticed on my iPod. Mostly because I'm invisible. Though I get the idea that kid thinks my name is Bob. Nice to be known, even unknowingly...but, Bob? Despicable. Ish.

And that whole paragraph was not supposed to be a Despicable Me reference but seems to have turned out that way. At least it fits.

Spontaneous sleepover plans with Anne were thwarted Friday night, but the girls definitely enjoys seeing each other again. First time since September. An eternity. She forgot to return that random question, though. Nicholas spoilers are apparently unforgivable. Personally, I'm not sure what she sees in that guy, but then, I can't exactly judge what I don't know.

Next time, you two, I'd like to be invited, not lurking in the shadows like a stalker. Thanks.

The writeress is making a comeback. I'm here, aren't I? I've been silent for some time. Now if she'll just get that short story she's writing finished, she can move on and get some good WIP work done. Maybe continue with that couple she created the other day, which has basically created their own story in her head. They've shown up as truth and not something she's got to make up. Rwayn isn't so bad, either. Not sure about Gary, buried in those books and hardly ever says a word. Working on that.

All in all, her last week has been something like this:

Excellent.

Now she's going to go finish that story for her friend. Before midnight. (Probably not, but ambitious deadlines force incentive.)

Signing off,
Black

Beautiful People #6: Spontáineach

Irish today.

I'm working on a story, quite a stubborn story. The story itself isn't so stubborn, it's more the words. Not that the story won't stop shifting and changing, but I'm getting it pinned down. The words, however, are stubbornly refusing. They come when I'm busy, and I write those down, but they are few, and when I sit down to write, I have no idea how to continue. In other words, I've written 348 words when I should have had about 30,000 by now (just kidding). (My goal is a measly 1000.)

I've been anxiously anticipating Cait and Sky's Beautiful People post for February since I posted mine for January. Finally, on the 5th (which was a delay I'd forgotten), she posted a Valentine's Day edition. A Valentine's Day edition. VALENTINE'S DAY.

I have no couples.

I could edit the questions to fit another relationship. But... Actually, how about this: I'm going to make up a random couple, on the fly, as I answer the questions.

This shall be interesting.

1. How long have they been a couple? Rwayn Joeli and Gary Paul have been together for 1.4 years.

2. How did they first meet? Accidentally. It was pouring rain and extremely windy. Umbrellas and briefcases and groceries and hair blocked their vision and stole their concentration.

Gary was walking to his car from the office. He was a law student working as an intern. His suit would be ruined in the downpour despite the small umbrella, but at least his briefcase and the important documents inside would be protected. He had rich scarlet hair but dyed it dark blond and brunette.

Rwayn was wrapped in her flowing yellow raincoat, barely keeping control of her umbrella, with a single bag of groceries on her arm. Her long dark hair whipped about her face and across her eyes. She was walking the couple blocks from her job at the small food mart to her home, where she lived with her mom. She was the youngest of three sisters and the only one still living at home. The law offices were on the block between the strip mall and her mom's.

Gary looked down for a moment to check his briefcase. Rwayn was blinded completely by her hair. Just as he looked down and before she could whip her hair from her eyes, the two collided. Gary dropped his briefcase. The bottom of Rwayn's plastic grocery bag broke open, the jar of pickles shattered on the pavement and the bread was instantly crushed and soggy. Both parties rushed to aid each other, and both promptly lost their umbrellas to the wind.

You get the idea.

They collected themselves, apologized profusely with nervous laughter, and went on their ways.

Afterwards, they recognized each other when their paths crossed after work. They probably had seen each other a zillion times before, but the accident in the storm had highlighted them as individuals rather than just another person in the world.

3. What were their first thoughts of each other? (Love at first sight or "you're freakishly annoying"?) As Gary would say now, looking back on that night, he saw a sweet girl who, had they met in other circumstances — at a mutual friend's, perhaps — he'd have wanted to get to know. As it was, he was more concerned about the contents of his briefcase and her ruined groceries and the rest of the chaos.

Rwayn saw a young lawyer in a rush to get home. He should have been watching where he was going, but he was kind enough to help her run down her umbrella and even offered to pay for the ruined food. Not that she let him. It was only a few dollars' worth, anyway. He was probably just as distracted, in his own way, with the storm as she was. She almost felt bad, watching him chase that ridiculously huge umbrella she'd lost to the wind.

4. What do they do that most annoys each other? Little or large? Let's go both. Ish.

Gary gets so focused on his work and school, buried in those law books of his and working on the tasks he's been given at the office. He's never not working or studying. She's a reader herself, but it'd be nice if he'd loosen up and take a look at living every once in a while. Life doesn't entirely consist of law books and phone calls. He also constantly clicks his pen, which might very well drive her insane someday.

Rwayn does anything anyone asks of her. While that isn't always a bad thing, he wishes she'd learn to say no every once in a while — even if he's the one receiving. She doesn't complain or act super stressed over it when she's accepted too many tasks, he just hates seeing her strung out between so many things. Despite the way she systematically multitasks her way through her mental list with that sweetness he loves, she needs to just cool it and relax every now and again. She also chews gum. He can't stand gum-chewing.

5. Are their personalities opposite or similar? They're equally on both sides of that, I think. One example can be seen if you were paying attention to the previous answer.

6. How would their lives be different without each other? He would be a hermit. She would be a [willing and unintentional] Cinderella.

Note: Giving her a mother and two sisters was unintentional. I only now realized how that resembled the Cinderella fairytale. (I also only just now decided on the Cinderella thing. As I said, I'm making this up as I go. And by "Cinderella thing," I only mean that she's constantly doing things for everyone.) I'm not sure what happened to/with her father, but her mother is biologically so, and her sisters are neither evil nor from other parent[s]. I believe one is in college (dark-haired, trim. Middle sibling. Kwinna, or Kwin (or Kwinnie to Rwayn). One/two years older than Rwayn. People have many times mistaken them for twins) and the other is married with two children (sandy blond, messy, shoulder-length hair. Gweneth Matthews, or Gwen. Three/four years older than Kwin. She has a four-year-old daughter and a two/three-year-old son. Her husband works, she works from home). The sisters are currently 21, 23, and 27.

7. Are they ever embarrassed of each other? Occasionally.

8. Does anyone disapprove of their relationship? Someone in Gary's family, I'm sure. I think he has an older brother. His father is rich. When his parents divorced, he stayed with his father and his brother with their mother. That wasn't entirely the brothers' choice. They didn't always get along, but they would have liked to stay together. In the end, at least they got to argue about who would go to which parent. Probably his mother is the one to disapprove. His brother likes the relationship, I think. (Not that he's met her? Just glad for his brother, and she's a sweet girl.)

9. Do they see their relationship as long-term / leading to marriage? They certainly don't see it as short-term. They haven't talked about marriage, or thought about it much (so busy), but they both see going there. For now, they're both happy taking it slow, at least until they're past the college years.

10. If they could plan the "perfect outing" together, where would they go? The water. A boat, in the water, with no one else in sight.

Another note: I think Gary is 24? And his brother... 26. Jared. His parents are James Paul and Mary Ginner (second married name). His father never remarried. He has an aunt, Sally Kurn (father's younger sister). Sally is blond, like a movie star in a red T-shirt and casual jeans. She's cool and artsy.

James and Sally

Beautiful People #5: A Escritora

That's right, Dean, you are.

(Obviously, I had to steal this, Cait.)

Q U E S T I O N S

1. How many years have you been writing? I'm not sure at all when I began writing... several years ago, at least. I don't know that I ever thought I'd be a writer, though. I always hated "write a short story about _____" assignments the very most, all the way from K-4, until perhaps... 7th grade? Something like that. When did you officially consider yourself a 'writer'? A few years ago? I'm not really certain. I'll have to look through my dates and see. Though I believe the first time I officially considered myself an actual writer would have been soon after Anne-girl and I began talking about books and writing and characters and plots and movies and all.

2. How/why did you start writing? Because I had to, the way Jeremiah had to preach.

3. What's your favorite part of writing? Writing. I know, lame, boring, extremely creative answer. 'Tis the truth, though. Writing is my favorite part of writing. When the words flow not so much from me but through me and I'm simply the channel through which they pass from the abstract to black and white colors.

4. What's your biggest writing struggle? Plotting. Plotting, plotting, plotting. I get random ideas and scenes and pictures and words, but rarely ever an entire story. Or if I do, I can't get enough details pinned down to actually get on with it. Thus all the cliffhangerishness that goes on around here. (Desculpe.)

5. Do you write best at night or day? At night. In the middle of the night. Strange, perhaps, but true. Then again... it seems I'm not so alone in this as I once thought. My favorite writings are always the ones I wrote sometime in the wee hours of the morning. This does seem to be changing somewhat, but for now it still remains.

6. What does your writing space look like? (Feel free to show us pictures!) Hmm, I don't exactly have one. My writing space is my laptop, or occasionally my phone or tablet, or, even less often, my notebook. Unless it's poetry... poetry I write in notebooks, or occasionally on the phone. For poetry, writing tools from first choice to last: notebook, tablet, phone, laptop. And for everything else: laptop, tablet, phone, notebook. (Something like that.) Weird.

7. How long does it typically take you to write a complete draft? I don't know, I've never done that [yet].

8. How many projects do you work on at once? As many as I want, I suppose. I'm not extremely organized about this writing thing. I'm trapped, though, as anyone else. In the most beautiful, chaotic way, of course.

9. Do you prefer writing happy endings, sad ones, or somewhere in between? Somewhere in between, I suppose. I like happily sad endings, or sadly happy endings. Please tell me you understand what I'm saying? Because I do realize that at first glance that may look like exactly the same thing, but it is not.

10. List a few authors who've influenced your writing journey. (Listed randomly.)

• Markus Zusak (The Book Thief)
• Allie Condie (Matched)
• Westmoure (Revelations)
• Anne-girl (Scribblings)
• Cait (Paper Fury)
• Sky (Further Up and Further In)
• Clare Vanderpool (Moonlight Over Manifest)
• Matthew J. Kirby (Icefall)
• Nicholas Sparks (A Walk to Remember)
  I've never loved love stories, but he makes them real. I've never read any of his books {though I just started The Longest Ride}, but I've seen A Walk To Remember {which was the first love story I fell in love with}, The Notebook {which was the second, I think}, and, as of this week, The Lucky One {the movie could have been done much better, but the story behind the cheese was quite the one}. I didn't realize until this week, when I watched The Lucky One, that all three were based on books written by Nicholas Sparks. Thus his addition to my list of awesomeness writers.
• A&E (screenwriters, Once Upon a Time)
• the writers of Supernatural
• Suzanne Collins (The Hunger Games)
• Michael Grant (Gone)
• Edgar Allen Poe
• Christopher Paolini (Eragon. His books breathed into me a permanent inspiration. I suppose the day I finished Inheritance is the day I truly began to become a writer.)
• Mark Twain
• Jack London (The Call of the Wild)
• Ely ({what can I say?})
• Olivia (The Scribbleagonist)
• Ashley G. ([insert title here])
• Christine Smith, aka Lauriloth (Musings of an Elf)
• Jaime, aka Jaguar Hero! (The Dancing Lawn)
• Vicki (Sunshine and Shadow)
• Rachel Heffinton (The Inkpen Authoress)
• Ted Dekker (The Circle Series)
• Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson. He writes with a simplicity I at times admire.)
• Amy Walker
• and of course many others, but I can't list them all (sadly)

11. Do you let people read your writing? Why or why not? It depends. Sometimes I post what I write, sometimes I show it to only certain people (or characters), and other times I show it to no one (perhaps not even myself). In the latter case, I have a secret, private blog upon which I scrawl any and all such works for safe-keeping. Why? Because some things simply are or are not meant for sharing, dearie.

12. What's your ultimate writing goal or dream? Ultimate? Hmm. Perhaps to have that one great book of my own that becomes classic and loved. Like The Book Thief. Not that said book would be like The Book Thief itself, or even the same genre, or anything, only that it would be that kind of beloved classic... you get the idea?

13. If you didn't write, what would you want to do? Act. As in, be a legit actress. Yes, that is my dream job.

14. Do you have a book you'd like to write one day but don't feel you're ready to attempt it yet? Yes, I do. The one that comes to mind would be World Without Water. It's sloshing around in my head still, gathering and collecting such things as would be needed until such a time presents itself. I don't want to start until it's ready for fear of ruining such a beautiful story. (Not that I'm really sure of what's going on yet, other than the original [title] idea. Which is part of why it's sloshing.)

15. Which story has your heart and won't let go? Jainie. And Alex. Also the others, but mostly Jainie (and Alex).

A perhaps [un]noteworthy note:

GIFs are cool but annoying. I never dreamed I'd actually use any.

And then Dean showed up on Beautiful People.

Hmm. Awesomeness, indeed.

"a escritora" is Portuguese for "the writer" (feminine), if you must know