Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Monday, December 15, 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Deep into PURE WHITE..............14
Bread was served at every meal at the Academy. Brandon grabbed a few sweet rolls
with Tammy. Scanning the
large Super cafeteria, Brandon's eyes stopped when he
found the Super
they needed. Tammy would
blab in the Commons if he let her stay.
“Tammy. Would you
take my food and head on over to the special meeting
early.
I'll be right behind you.” He gave
her a reassuring smile. She cocked her head briefly
and returned his
smile with a wink.
“Right-O, Captain!”
She took his napkin of rolls and skipped off.
Brandon took a deep
breath as he watched her leave. He then turned back to the room,
making a direct beeline for Jason. As
always, the redhead was surrounded by a small
group, chatting and
laughing up a storm. Jason waved
Brandon over as soon as he spotted
the stoic blond teenager. Jason
chuckled as Brandon nodded to him
and jerked his head
at the group.
“Tough crowd tonight?” Brandon
asked.
“Nope.” Jason
smirked. “I have them eating out of the palm of my hand!” That
created a wave
of laughter. Heads
turned on from every side of the room, craning. Jason winked at his
friend.
Brandon's mouth
twitched. The joke was on them- they didn't know he was serious.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Monday, December 1, 2014
ALMOST Winner of NANOWRIMO 2014
HELLO EVERYONE!
:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
COMPLETING
THE
50,000 WORD COUNT
CHALLENGE
IN
30 DAYS MAKES YOU
AUTOMATICALLY A
WINNER
:D
I DID NOT WIN.
:(
MY FINAL WORD COUNT FOR NANO 2014 WAS
14,714
NOT BAD FOR A BEGINNER.
NEXT YEAR, I'LL KNOW MY LIMITS
AND TENDENCY TO PROCRASTINATE.
MORE PRE-WRITING...MAYBE.
I MIGHT BE BETTER-
A LOT BETTER.
I ONLY BEGAN WRITING IN
THE SPRING OF
2014
I DID SOME PRE-WRITING IN OCTOBER
FOR
PURE WHITE
I PLAN TO FINISH MY NOVEL BY JANUARY 2015
#AWESOME #EXCITED
LOOKING FORWARD TO
nanowrimo 2015!!!
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Gaudiloquence: Why I don't feel bad about giving up on NaNoWriMo ...
Gaudiloquence: Why I don't feel bad about giving up on NaNoWriMo ...: Snow White and the Seven Deadly Sins is the fifth rough draft I've gotten out of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). But this is ...
Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye - Peter Hollens feat. Evynne - A ca...
my sister makes me sad...
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
NANOWRIMO pep talk by JIM BUTCHER........14
Pep Talk from Jim Butcher
Beware, sweet, innocent, aspiring writer. People aren’t telling you this, and they should be. NaNoWriMo participants are being deceived into thinking that being an author is a good thing. But you don’t know. You don’t know the horrors you might face as a professional, published, full-time author.
I could tell you. I could go on for hours about all the things that threaten my peace of mind. I could for you a tale unfold that would harrow up your carpal tunnels and chill the very marrow of your finger bones: tales of the constant questions, the unending deadlines, the mind-bending task of deciding each and every day which hours you will spend writing.
But never mind all of that. Best not to dwell on the worst. Instead, let us concentrate on what you must do to avoid this horrible fate, and save yourself agonies untold.
First and foremost, and I cannot stress this enough: do not sit down at the keyboard and write on a regular basis. This is a trap. You can tell yourself that you’re only doing it to scratch an itch, that you only need to get a few hundred words written and then you can set it aside—but the siren clickclickabulation of the dancing keys will do more than merely produce words on a page. It will condition you to want, nay, to need to do it each and every day.
And if that happens, there is simply no way, in the long run, to avoid the most lamentable and horrible fate of finishing a novel.
Whatever you do, do not seek feedback from readers and other writers. Bad enough that you work in a vacuum, allowing the authoric energies to work their demonic way on your thoughts—if you add to that the feedback of the work’s intended audience, you will only establish the primary mechanism of making your writing more effective for those for whom it is meant.
This is a doubly pernicious practice! Not only does it seduce you to create more material for your audience, but it creates more audience for your material in an infernal feedback loop. I cannot stress to you enough how much you need to avoid this part of the process! Save yourself!
A further horrible mistake I can recognize only in retrospect: do not inform yourself about the publishing industry and the demons who labor therein. Oh, certainly, those people, those editors, may seem to be witty and charming and friendly at writing conventions and on workshop panels, but make no mistake. Their only purpose in life is to draw you into their evil plans, and force you to labor for them while they help you hone your writing craft.
Many aspiring writers are intimidated by editors, and I cannot help but emphasize how much credit you should give to these instincts, placed there for the protection of your sanity and whole mind. If you allow yourself to overcome this natural inclination, it may be too late for you to escape your fate.
Finally, I can only encourage each and every aspiring author out there to quit writing at the first opportunity and never look back. This seemingly harmless activity is anything but, and if you cannot break its hold on you, if you continue to make up one excuse after another to keep typing, if you find yourself promising yourself “just one more novel” and never draw away from it, you will inevitably be drawn into published perdition.
All you need do is quit! Just say no! And you will be saved! But if you continue, and continue, and continue despite all the sane voices trying to sway you, you will be drawn into the maelstrom of madness that is the life of a professional writer.
Dear NaNoWriMo participant, I beg of you, listen to me! You cannot know the horrors you will face! Run! Flee! Turn aside from this dark road!
For if you do not, I fear that one day, you will find yourself writing with other damned souls like me.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Wicked Medley - Peter Hollens & Nick Pitera (Nick's Version).......14
Wicked Medley - Peter Hollens & Nick Pitera (Nick's Version)
HAHA!
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
Monday, November 17, 2014
Friday, November 14, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
PW Facebook........14
Hey Ya'll!
For the safety of my book, I separate the sections I share online.
Here is a link for my FACEBOOK fan page 4 Lydia Jenkins:
Happy Reading
and
PLEASE DO NOT COPY
WITHOUT PERMISSION!
THANKS! :D
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
PW RELOADED..............14
PURE
WHITE
Lydia
Jenkins
NATIONAL NOVEMBER WRITERS MONTH
RELOADED
FOR MY GOD AND FAMILY!
THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME THE WOMAN THAT I AM.
A SHOUT OUT TO MY INSPIRATIONS:
TED DEKKER
BRANDON SANDERSON
TERRY PRATCHETT
AND
MIKE SHAFFER
PART
I
10.18.14
Sirens wailed in the distance. Red and blue lights
flashed as they sped through the rain.
Drivers were often careless after the sun went down, the
police knew this. It left law enforcement to
protect those who were on the road- at the mercy of lamp
lights, poor vision, and drunks. Friday nights
were the worst, being the eve of every school student
and career man's longed for hope- the weekend.
Rain didn't help.
A car had been forced off the highway twenty minutes
ago. It had been a drunk driver, said
witnesses, who had caused the other car to swerve over
the ledge, into the murky channel. The
unknown victim was trapped in their car, possibly
unconscious, as it bobbed- slowing sinking into the
cold water.
***
Blood trickled down Sheile's forehead in the dim light.
She heard yelling from somewhere
and...some kind of wailing. The voices were
muffled. Was someone crying? Slowly she became aware
of the pain. It started in her side and coursed through
Sheile's entire body, spreading out like roots of an
old oak. Or REDWOOD. Ugh. Sheile glanced down
through the steering wheel bar. Water seeped
through the lining of Sheile's car doors, creating wet
spots that rapidly spread. The carpet was
becoming soggy as it soaked in channel water like a
sponge. It squelched as she moved her feet.
Sheile shivered and tried to lift her head. It felt so
heavy! She groaned. Bracing weak arms against the
steering wheel, Sheile pushed herself up against the
seat back.
She rubbed her eyes. Her hand came back red. Huh.
Sheile stared at the blood without
comprehension. Her mind brushed away the evidence of
injury as presently insignificant. Time to ditch
this joint! Sheile reached for the door handle.
She tugged. Nothing happened. Sheile tried again,
harder. Water pressure kept the door firmly shut. It
was stuck. She was stuck. Frustrated, Sheile let
out a cry and smacked the door with her palm, smearing
blood. She combed her fingers through sodden hair,
spreading color with her life blood. Panic was
creeping in. Desperate tears welled in her eyes.
Sheile's instincts caused her anger to flare, keeping
panic at bay.
She lashed out violently, twisting her body as she
brought her legs up to kick the door.
CRACK! ...crack. Echoed
a smaller noise. It was a shock to Sheile that it had worked.
Her leg
spasm. Ow!
Ooh, ow! No time to waste. Her
eyes grew large as water flooded the cabinet. This plan...?
It was not thought through. Came
a wry thought. She barely gulped a lung of air and close her eyes
before the water covered her head.
An odd calm washed over Sheile as she was enveloped by
the wave. Her scrunched face relaxed
as she opened her eyes, looking around. Hands forming a
steeple, Sheile dove forward. The fishes were
welcome to stay here, but not her! She was going to
avoid an early, watery grave. Sheile gasped as her
head broke the surface, splashing loudly. Sheile reached
shore, exhausted. Strong hands reached out
over the ledge.
They carefully hauled her up, cradling the young
woman's head. She was held in the
paramedic's arms as he knelt on the wet asphalt, another
laying his medic bag beside the two. A gurney
was being wheeled over. Breathing heavily, her tired
eyes took in several stilt house forms glowing red
and blue as the stars shone overhead, muted. Sheile
tried her voice. Nothing came out. The girl's eyes
froze as her mouth hung open. Sheile's body arched. A
second later she caved, going limp. More yelling
and frantic movement. Wires were spread to monitor
vitals. A hand beat against Sheile's chest. Crack.
Three ribs broke. A strong voice rang out in the night
“CLEAR!”. Drrz Buzzt. “AGAIN! Clear!” Drrrz
Buzztt! Her head lay on something soft, but
Sheile wasn't there anymore. She was dead to the world.
***
An eternity later her heart jumped. Sheile opened her
eyes to metallic gray. Or was it silver?
Tangled, wet hair lay sprawled on damp shoulders.
Everything was wet. An officer had offered his
heavy coat for Sheile. It was laid over the straps and
blankets that weight her down on the gurney.
Paramedics hovered around the young woman. They were
concerned, and perplexed by the girl's
revival, not to mention her apparent lack of major
injury. Well, beyond dying. Sheile had flat-lined.
She was fine now.
Sheile's head was clean and bandaged. Her arm and right
foot were splinted. They had also
checked for concussion and placed a white heavy plastic
guard on her neck, in case of abrasion.
Sheile's foggy awareness was thankful for the IV pumping
a cocktail of painkillers ans saline into her
system.
The medics were taking Sheile to the hospital. There,
she would get the full work over to make
sure there weren't any internal injuries, etc. When
Sheile had mumbled her request for a hot drink, she
had receive an apologetic shrug. Luxuries for the
patient would have to wait until she was settled into a
hospital room. The man gave her a small heating pack for
each hand. Sheile shivered, gratefully
absorbing heat for her chilled body.
***
The ambulance gave a final whup whup as they
arrived at the hospital. As the paramedics
wheeled Sheile up and in, she noticed that the facility
they had brought her to was high end. Can even I
afford this? So plush...so posh! Sheile's
wandering eyes leveled on a very attractive young
doctor. She
blushed as he met the paramedics, shaking their hands.
“She's a live one!” The older fellow told Dr.
Curtis. He looked over at the silent patient. Her
face was beet-red. High fever? The girl's doe eyes
peered at him through thick lashes before looking
away. Probably not. He would go easy on this little one-
for a while. It was going to be so much fun
teasing her! A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “Duly
noted.” He gave the paramedic a hard pat on the
back and took the paperwork offered. “Thanks guys.
Take care!” They waved and carried their bags
out.
Sheile hunched her shoulders, nosing as much face under
the blanket as possible. It wasn't
much. She was trying to hide a smile. A
lust-at-first-sight, flirtatious smile. Her face hadn't stopped
flaming. It was worse when his good humored eyes turned
on her, piercing the young woman's heart.
They were starlight bright. It was a shade of white,
tinted blue. The doctor sported a pencil,
jawline beard. Blond. His cheeks had a healthy glow, and
he was tall. Sheile knew she should turn
away, but the young in this girl wanted to drown
in those eyes. Her heart sighed, drinking in the sight.
He saw a smile peeking at the edge of her blankets. Dr.
Curtis return it, oblivious to the young
woman's yearning. Nurse Mary came by. “Doctor?” She
asked, glancing at Sheile.
“Ah. Yes. New patient. Over night stay. Here are the
notes.” He handed her a sheaf of papers.
The nurse took them, scanning the page. Her eyes took in
name, birthday, and listed injuries.
“Sheile Miller.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I'll see if she's in the system. Miss?” This
was directed to Sheile.
“Yes.”
“ Have you been to this hospital before?”
Remembering the quality and decor of the
commons, Sheile promptly said, “No.”
“Ah. We'll need to check anyway. Medical files
should be available on History-Hub.” Sheile
would have nodded with the doctor, but she couldn't.
Neck brace.
***
10.22.14
Sheile was bored out of her mind! As she stared at the
wall, averting her eyes from the silent
TV, Sheile's mind played tricks on her. She was sure of
it. Fully awake and seemingly coherent, Sheile
saw small things shift.
Must be delirium. She decided firmly. The print on a cup
doesn't change right before your eyes! And
the degree of light which her lamps shone with? Nah.
Must be her. Or, perhaps the light bulbs simply
needed to be replaced. Yes. That must be the
problem. Peculiar things that the general populous tend to
be superstitious about had perfectly logical
explanations. Sheile nodded to herself primly as she
thought this. The girl didn't see a doctor enter, so
absorbed in her line of reasoning. She was startled
when a deep, masculine voice said, “Hello.” It was
him. Color rose in her cheeks. Darn it!
Dr. Curtis observed his patient's reaction with mind
amusement.
“How are you today, Miss Miller?” Sheile glanced
from side to side. He made her mind go
blank. She didn't like that- not one bit! Tilting her
head, lips pursed, Sheile went with a safe answer.
“Fine.” He walked over to the bed as she said this,
picking up her chart. Sheile looked away.
She wasn't fine. The cast on her arm and legs
weren't worth the aggravation of not being about to move
either freely, or itch. She didn't itch her limbs on a
normal basis, but not being able made her want to do
it! Dr. Curtis looked over at Sheile. He could tell she
was doing well. Remarkable well and kicking.
But the young woman obviously felt cooped up- confined
in her hospital bed, the window ten feet
away. He let the pages flip down. It was decide. Philip
could spare some time for this miserable girl.
He slipped the clipboard back into the clear file-catch
on the wall with a click. Suddenly he smiled,
directing it to Sheile. Odd. She tensed, nerves
humming as she waited. Sheile jumped when his hands
clapped together. “Oops. Sorry-” Dr. Curtis
apologized. She relaxed some, rolling a shoulder. He
tried a more gentle approach.
“How would you feel about a little adventure, Miss
Miller?” Philip asked kindly, a small rise to
his voice. She stared at him for a moment before asking,
“Why?” It came out like a stage whisper, firm
but quiet. Hmm. Enough with antics. Dr. Curtis
was a professional. He hadn't gone to Med-School
for nothing!
“Fresh air.” He told her simply.
“Fresh-” Her voice tapered off in wonder. She
turned her
face toward the window, expression filled with longing.
What had it been- two days? It felt like two
weeks. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I will go with you.” Sheile stated, as if it
was an honor bestowed upon him.
Philip's mouth twitched. “Very good.” He turned to
the closet. Wedging a wheel chair out for his
patient. Bumping the door shut again, Dr. Curtis wheeled
it over to her bed.
“Well?” She cocked a brow. Glancing at her casts
she said dryly, “I need a little help, Blondie.”
“Oh yes. Of course!” The usage of his nickname
almost passed unnoticed, so familiar was it to
the doctor. He went by many names, actually. Hey You,
Dr. Phil, Blondie... His proper title was
Dr. Curtis. He decided not to comment. She would never
use his nickname again, if he said anything.
Philip preferred informality, even though he generally
called patients by their proper names. He was a
bit of a hypocrite in that way. Philip liked to think of
himself as a deeply paradoxical man. Not a
shallow bone in his body...
Sheile tolerated a hand put behind her back as Dr.
Curtis helped the young woman out of bed.
She had a goal. A cause. Nature beckoned. Sheile
breathed deeply the scents that flutter by, captured by
her senses. The doctor helped Sheile onto the granite
bench. It was a facet of small pebbles in dull
colors, but a great verity of size and shapes.
“Ahhh!” She sighed, drooped in the bench,
head back. Her lips curled with pleasure. She didn't
even notice the doctor's presence. Sheile's brow
smoothed as her chin lifted up, clear as the blue sky
overhead. He watch the girl enjoy the hospital's patient
garden as though it held roses and every floral
sprout possible.
***
11.6.14
In no time at all, Sheile was free! She felt liberated!
Two days after the hospital sent her home with pills
and a blessing, Sheile got a follow-up
appointment to get her leg and arm cast removed. Yes!
She was triumphant! Haha! Sheile rejoiced at
the sensation of moving her hand without
constraint. She cranked her wrist, stretching fingers and
popping knuckles. Yes! Her mind yelled once more.
Yes! It felt so good ! The attending nurse bit the
inside of her cheek at the obvious flushing joy that
shone on the girl's face. Nurse Patricia had a spiel to
deliver.
“Now,” Patricia started, getting Ms. Miller's
attention. “Have you ever broken anything
before?” Sheile looked up from her hand to the nurse.
“Nope. First time! First wreck...” She pursed her
lips, dark memories attempting to flood her
thoughts.
“Okay. Well, then I won't be giving you the talk in
vain, right?”
“Right?” Sheile echoed, not entirely sure what the
nurse meant.
“If you've been here before, you'd know the basic
DON'Ts.” Sheile nodded at this. “Okay. Don't
push yourself too hard. You'll be weak for a couple
weeks. Though,” She commented, shaking her
head. “We've never had anyone as cheerful and
healthy recover this fast!” Sheile shrugged.
“In the genes, I guess!” She flashed a brief smile.
Sheile had never been sick for long and wasn't
about to start! Patricia went on, eyes scanning the page
of information she gave normal patients.
“Uh, physical therapy. You may sign up at a gym close
to your apartment, or come back to a
Med Center. This is a new program, involving the
community, staying local. What would you prefer,
Ms. Miller?” Sheile thought for a moment. The
hospital staff were awesome....but it would be cheaper
to apply at the gym. She knew a good place! Filling the
patient silence, Sheile replied, “The gym.” Her
nurse nodded, reaching for a clipboard.
“And which will you attend?”
“Hale's Haven on 7th.” Patricia made a
few notations and handed Sheile the form.
“Sign please.” Sheile took the pen offered,
scribbling her best mark. She was actually quite
proud of her signature. It had evolved into something
beautiful since she was twelve and indecisive
with good intentions.
“Alright!” Patricia said cheerily, clicking the pen
off as Sheile returned them. “You're set. Good
to go.” She winked. Sheile smiled.
“Thanks!”
“Just stop by the reception desk on your way out to
arrange a three month health review.” Sheile
nodded, ready to anything for her clean bill of health.
***
Sheile stretched, arms spread wide and high above her
head. She yawned. Blinking, she took in
the unfamiliar room
in a heartbeat. Her eyes widened in surprise. Huh?
Where AM I? She looked
around, mildly concerned. It seemed as though she was
still in the hospital. Had they moved her...in the
night? No wait. She
had been discharged weeks ago!
Wha- who...? WHY? Her head began to pound,
frontal lobe aching
with the strain. Or medical drugs. Sheile
brushed a hand through her short hair.
Fingers found a
tender spot. Ouch. She winced. Okay. Not
touching there anytime
soon! Sheile sat
back, propping herself further up the pillows. Umm.
Cozy. At least her alleged kidnappers had some
style!
THANKS 4 READING!
Look for the whole novel in
2015!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)