Find a Shoulder

I'm that person who has a list of life goals on a piece of paper in a special box in a certain drawer in my room. One of those goals is to be a published author. One is to find all the numbers from 1 to 999 on license plates in order. (This statement always confuses people, so here is how I can best describe it - I see a car that has a license plate H1Y 42G, for example. Well, on that I could find 1, 2, 4, 12, 14, 41, 21, 142, 412, 214, 241.... etc, depending on where I was in the game.)


At any point of any day, I could tell you what number I was on. And at some point I lost count of the years I had spent on it, but my best guess is between 7 and 10 years. Now, when you're 21, that's a commitment. Especially when most people look at you, stare for a moment, and try to find the nicest way to say, "Why in the world are you doing this?"

My dad wasn't one of those. Maybe it's because he was always driving, and he needed something to do. He'd help me look at the passing cars and point out my number if he found it. But he went beyond that.

Every summer weekend growing up my family made an hour and a half trip from Dallas to Lake Texoma, and at about a halfway point was the mile stretch of highway of all mile stretches. First, when on the way home, was the Dairy Queen. Ice cream for everyone! Second: three truck stops all next to each other. Now, Texas license plates aren't very nice. The vast majority have only two numbers. Very few had three. So my task was much more difficult once I got past 100.

But semi-truck license plates have lots of numbers, and they were my savior. So nearly every weekend, after we had our ice cream, my dad would drive around all three truck stops slowly enough for me to glance at each license plate. (Fun Fact: the license plates are different on the front and back of these trucks, which made the stop even more productive.) My mom and sister would roll their eyes, but my dad and I knew the invaluable help the truck stops gave to my project. In about the ten minutes it took to stop and drive around, I could usually get about 30 numbers nearer to my goal.

When I finally got to 999, I was in college and walking around with a friend. I jumped and screamed and maybe even clicked my heels out of excitement, while my friend - who knew about my goal - thought I'd lost my mind. And then I called my dad.

If not for my dad, I'd still be many numbers away from being able to cross that goal off of my life list. But more importantly, all the people who tried to convince me my goal was futile might have actually succeeded. He believed in me. He helped me. He was there, every time we were in a car, asking, "What number are you at now?"

My goal for being a published author someday, which might also be a goal of yours, is sure to take time, perseverance, and a whole lot of effort. But having someone who thinks it's worthwhile, and who believes I can do it, will be an invaluable resource.

So I guess I just want to say, whatever your goal is, whatever your dream - even one as crazy as license plates numbers - find a shoulder. One you can lean on, cry on, and use as a pushing off point when you're jumping for glee at that moment you can finally check it off your list.

Anyone have any crazy odd dreams and goals of their own? I want to hear!

A very scientific calculation of good books vs. great books...

I read at least once a day, before I go to sleep, regardless of the day or hour. But in the hours outside of that designated reading time, I can calculate this:

The difference between a good book and a great book, as portrayed by my thought processes.

Good book:
I actually have some free time! What should I do with it? Is there anything good on TV? Anything I can do to get ahead on homework? Oh, I could read my book for awhile.

Great book:
I have a million things I need to do. There are NOT enough hours in the day. Gah gah gah. But I MUST find time to read this book!! *Ignores everything else and reads*

Mean Girls, Realism, and Young Adult Books

It took me years to watch Mean Girls, and let's just say it wasn't instant love or anything. So how I ended up watching some of Mean Girls 2... I have no idea. I'm going to blame it on the lack of baseball at the moment.

Even so, my mind somehow related the movie to writing. There was a scene where a girl got food splattered all over her, and everyone in the cafeteria pointed at her and laughed. Literally. Pointing fingers and many over-exaggerated chuckles and all.

The thing is, there was a two-week period in my junior year when the same friend of mine got hit by food at three different lunches. We weren't the "losers" or anything (my high school was surprisingly diverse and well-mannered). I'm 99% sure the food wasn't even aimed at our table, unless as a joke. And it always happened right at the end of lunch, so there was a lot of mayhem with everyone leaving and we couldn't figure out where it came from. One time it was a barbecue sauce type substance, one time it was some sort of jello that had something inside of it. We all used our thinking caps (AP students that we were), tracked down a spare shirt in one of our gym or dance lockers, and got her changed and to class relatively on time. (In fact, after she was late for the third time, our crazy Calculus teacher joked she should start wearing a raincoat to lunch.)

I am still convinced that the three occurrences in such a short time period and the fact that it always hit the same person even though we were in different seats was a mere coincidence. Frankly, we thought it was hilarious. And my whole point is, no one else really even noticed what happened, much less pointed and laughed.

I think high school is a very important period of life (no matter how desperate I was to move on to college), and that's a large part of why I write contemporary young adult. So many things that happen in high school are amplified in our minds, becoming the most important or disastrous or embarrassing thing that has ever happened. EVER. And that's what makes it so interesting.

High school is a terrifying time all on its own. But for some reason, movies like to amplify this. They make the universal cliques more distinct, the embarrassing moments ten times longer and more ridiculous, the teachers crazier, and on and on. The stories that are told about high school are important, but I believe they can be told realistically, too.

I think there's a quote saying something to effect that fiction has to be more realistic than real life, because it has to be believable. That makes perfect sense. And I think this is something that young adult books are better at than movies. I also think the importance of this shouldn't be overlooked. When something is the right amount of realistic, it's relatable. And, at least for me, when I can relate in even the smallest way, that's when something I read has the most effect.

So, digging into all the crazy and twisted things that assuredly happen in high school and how they affect people, I'm all for. But over-exaggerating events to the point they're hard to watch? Please, for the love of books, leave it to the movies.

Note: I am speaking specifically about contemporary/realistic books - not fantasy or sci-fi or the like, which each work in their own ways with their non-realistic elements :)

What I Learned Reading John Green

At a certain point in my childhood, I discovered that my biggest sticking point with books was their ability to grab me right away. If I wasn't hooked quickly, I really had to fight my way through a book. I couldn't just enjoy the writing, if you will, or the setting. I'm not a details person - I never really care what a room looks like unless it is very, very important.

So I started only reading murder mysteries and legal thrillers. Someone was usually killed on the first few pages, and I was always immediately sucked in. But eventually I acknowledged that I would never write one of those genres, so as I became more serious in my efforts to write a novel, I tried to focus my reading more to a genre that I would be more likely to write.

I still read a wide variety of genres, but last summer I discovered the genre that I wanted to write in and that worked best for me: contemporary young adult. So, as I went to the library and started reading as many in that genre as possible, I discovered something.

Contemporary can grab you on the first page, too. A book doesn't have to be high concept or a mystery of some sort to suck you in right away. It can be done with voice, or an intriguing circumstance, or a character I can't resist knowing more about.

from Amazon.com

I remember, months ago, reading a synopsis of Looking For Alaska, by John Green, and thinking that, even though I had heard it was amazing, it didn't sound particularly intriguing to me. But I kept seeing it mentioned, kept hearing it was great, so I finally picked it up from the library.

And it. was. incredible. It isn't high concept. The protagonist is clearly going through a major change as he's moving away to boarding school, but there's no major plot hook. However, I was immediately pulled in, and I had a hard time putting the book down.

One major reason why is because, instead of chapters, there are headings that count down. The first one is one hundred thirty-six days before. Instantly I wanted to know, before what? So the reader knows that something major will happen, and that it will be so defining that there will be a before and after. And as the numbers wane, the tension builds.

I felt it important to note, then, in this world of short attention spans and high concept hooks, that there are many, many ways a contemporary novel can be just as gripping as a murder mystery. Also, I would like to say - read Looking For Alaska.

Have you ever read Looking For Alaska? Do you have any thoughts on contemporary novels? High concept books? What in the beginning of a book convinces you to keep reading?

Those Musical Things That Inspire Me

There are certain songs that I forever attach to specific events (as I'm sure is true for most people).

I can't hear that 90's song, Shorty You're My Angel, without remembering the boy who dedicated it to me at our 6th grade Star Social in a failed attempt to win me back.

I can't hear most of U2's songs without remembering the year my dance studio's ballet production was done entirely to U2 music. Some songs I can even remember the move I had to do at a certain part.

I can't hear Josh Groban's You Raise Me Up without remembering that my Grandpa had a man sing that beautifully in dedication to my Grandma at her 70th birthday party.

But now there are certain songs I can't hear without thinking of the manuscript they helped inspire.

If there's one song to embody what I will affectionately call Manuscript #1, it's Beautiful Disaster by Jon McLaughlin. Not to mention that it's simply a beautiful song. And I think the lyrics fit my MC in complete different ways each time I hear the song.

And the song that was the big emotional fuel for Manuscript #2 was Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons. (Also, just a song to love for any reason.)

But Manuscript #3, which I'm about to really start working on, has no musical driving force yet. GASP. I'm keeping an ear out (my iTunes is perpetually on Shuffle). In the meantime, I thought I'd share these wonderful songs and ask, what songs have inspired you?

The Grand Return

Okay, so it's not so grand. But I haven't blogged in a very long time (you may or may not have noticed) and after much deliberation, I'm resolving to return.

While I wasn't blogging, I had many thoughts about blogging. Such as, "That would make a good post," or, "I have thoughts about this, where could I share them?" But I also had thoughts such as, "Surely plenty of other writers have blogged about the same topic in a much more profound way," and, "I don't have time to write/revise and blog, so I'll skip the blogging."

But here's the truth - if I worried less about whether what I have to say is groundbreaking, and instead just share my writing related thoughts, inspirations, and endeavors, blogging would be a much less stressful and time consuming activity.

And I devour others blogs on a daily basis (like yours!) that motivate me, inspire me, and make me laugh. So mine might just be another one of a hundred in your google readers, but that's okay. I'm going to give it my best shot.

For my writing major, I have to take a class called "The Situation of Writing," which I guarantee will leave me wanting to rip my hair out when I am encouraged to believe that a career as a "literary" writer is the only respectable way to be a writer, but I digress...

I had to read a piece for class by Clarence Major, "Afterthoughts on Becoming a Writer," and I really identified with this part:

"If there were disadvantages in being out of step, there were just as many advantages. I was beginning to engage myself passionately in painting and writing, and this passion would carry me through a lot of difficulties and disappointments--simply because I had it. I saw many people with no passionate interest in anything. Too many of them perished for lack of a passionate dream long before I thought possible."

So here's to passion, dreams, and following them! (Oh, and Happy New Year!)

I Write To...

"'Write to save yourself,' Athos said, 'and someday you'll write because you've been saved.'"
            -From Fugitive Pieces, by Anne Michaels

I came across this quote while reading for class, and it struck me as very true to my life. I used to say that I wrote to understand my world, and I read books to escape it. In large part, that is still true. But I think my "someday" is closer, or maybe even now.

I have a shelf of spirals at home filled with angsty poems and paragraphs of random musings that I am embarrassed of, but I wouldn't wish them to not exist. There were so many times I didn't know how I felt about a situation until I read what I'd just written. The words in those spirals got me through many years in which I felt lost, confused, and sometimes even unloved.

And all the books on my shelves gave me insight into worlds I couldn't be a part of in my own life, while letting me escape my life for as long as it took to read the words on the pages I held.

I always knew I wanted to be an author, from the time I was five years old. But I spent most of my life writing things that weren't even remotely close to novels or even publishable poems. And that's okay, because writing made me the person I am and got me through everything I encountered in life.

But most of what I write now isn't musings on my life. It's not random observations or lines about the boy I have a crush on. Somewhere along the way, my notebook became filled with short stories and novel ideas. My focus changed to writing something that will ideally allow a teenager to become engrossed in a book for a while instead of whatever is going on in life.

That, more than anything, is my dream. Because words saved me.

Why do you write? Can you identify with that quote, too?