Sunday, February 7, 2010

Dear Sun, I Am Cold

First, I'm going to start with a question, IS ANYONE AS COLD AS I AM! BRRRR! I can't stand the cold. It's terrable. I mean, we're in the south! I thought one of the purks of being in a southern state was that it wasn't cold? That just shows what I know about the south. At the moment I'd rather be in MN right now. At least there their's snow. Lots of snow. And I'm not talking 3 inches like would be considered allot here. I'm talking feet. I'm talking about the type of snow that you can't successfully walk through. The kind you have to imediatly go outside and shovel a walkway to your driveway then shovel your driveway. (P.S. For rules and a realistic example about shoveling MN snow, go to [it's the 3rd blog down and quite hillarious. I've had to go through it before]) The kind that leaves HUGE snow drifts about the size of a house! Yes, I know, hard to believe. Well, you better believe it, cause I'm not lying. Anyway, point is, it needs to warm up and quick.

Another thing I'm pretty much hating about this wether is that it's always raining. No sun, no sun, no sun. It's like the wether has so cleaverly planned it out so that it's raining on the weekends! Not ok. Rain clouds, how I dread you. One of the worst things about the rain is that it's overcast. Which means it's covering up the sun, right? Well, the sun gives us vitamins. If the sun can't get to us, we don't get those vitamins which make us joyful and want to go outside and take on the world. That's one of the reasons Minesotans are always depressed from October to June, they don't get sun. Thus, because of the lack of joyous sun, we're all blah. and I don't know about you, but I don't like blah. Blah and I don't get along, blah gives me head aches.

So I've decided to write our beloved sun a letter.

Perhaps if it works, the sun will grace us with its presents once again.

Dear sun,

I am writing to voice my concern about you rarely showing up in the state you love. Why is it you've suddenly gone? I asure you you've been missed. Even now I know there must be some helpless person on Facebook statusing about the wether and how you have left us in the clouds care. We're all quite worried and I'm afraid the wether has not been treating us well. I know head aches and lack of excercise have increased since you've left. Does this not concern you? I miss you oh so terably and would love it if you'd maybe visite one of these near days as you're passig by and stay awhile. Something I'm sure you would enjoy as well. I find myself day dreaming about you while watching the day slowly go by; For 'm sure the days go by faster when you're here. Is it that you don't like February? Or that you don't get along with Valentines day? Why you always leave this time of year always puzzles me. But I hope you're having a good time warming the Caribbean beachs.
I will conclude with my hope of you coming here. I so long to be warm and take a comforting walk to the park.

Your cold author, Thea

Friday, February 5, 2010

"You're my thoughts, your not suppose to fly! Come down!"

Picture this, your walking down a woody path, through a lush, green forest and suddenly, it starts narrowing. And you think, "Oh dang." Because, of caurse this happens offten and you know what's coming next.
The path disapears completely.
Yes, that's how I feel right now. (And no, this is not going to be a real deep blog.)
As a matter of fact, this blog is more for me to complain to whoever (if anybody actually does) read this. Because I'm getting lost. Lost in my writing. What can I say? I've hit a brick wall. Most writers have 1 of 2 problems. (I don't think it's possible to have both...) They either 1. Have way too many idea that keep coming and fitting together perfectly. (Which makes their books become epic novels like War And Peace. I think Christopher Paolini had that problem...) or 2. They have a very basic idea of what they want to write but know they need more. I, for one, have problem number 2. It's horrible! I'd rather have problem number 1. At least then I could sort through it all and have an amazing plot. I have an amazing plot, but I need MORE amazing plot other than just the basic love twist and what is basically going to happen. I need more than one epic battle. I need a dramatic twist that makes people stop... Reread the paragraph... And repeat. Something that makes your heart quicken and you're forced to put the book down and just think. I could be the only one that does that when I'm shocked, but still, there's a first for everything.

I lied in the first paragraph. My thoughts haven't stopped. They're just kinda floating above me and I need a way to piece them together. My mind is so unorganized...

I think you all got the idea I was just blogging to complain. And thank you if you've made it this far... Sorry about the unorganization of my blogging at the moment. I never have my thoughts pieced together when I blog until after I'm finished.

Which is why I'm blogging at this very moment! Hoping for willing ears to hear me plea my want of organized though, maybe my thoughts and/or ideas will become organized! Insperation of a type?

I get insperation/ideas on a whim. Allot of times in the car, sometimes while in the book store (of all places). OH!, I got one in the dentist today! Then I forgot it... I forget allot of my ideas actually. I'm quite unorganized when it comes to my thoughts. (I totally just proved myself. I think that's the third time I anounced I was unorganized in my mind) Does this mean I should cary around a note pad? Already do, don't use it. Although I sometimes write on my hand... My mother gets onto me for it... But that's beside the point! I don't even have a point. I'm just slapping random words down that seem to pop into my head at the time.

Actually, the point of this blog was to 1. Complain (which I have thurally done). And 2. Explain my book so far to it's adoring public. Even though it doesn't have one yet. But that's only a matter of time.

So, here it is. The rough draft so far.

 A girl named Isabel awakes from a dream of her fathers tragic death. Dreams that had been hauting her ever since the acident. But she only had one thing she could do. go on with her life and captain her fathers ship as he so elaberatly requested in his will. Mean while, the infumous Samual "Bright Eyes" Gouge is planning Isabel's assasination, but not before she leads him to the location of the ________ (I don't know what it is yet) that her father refused to give away. Knowing she knows who killed her father, Gouge apoints a young man of the age of 18 name Aaron to the task of sneaking on board the Red Skull as part of the crew and giving her just enough info to lead her in the general direction of the _____. Along the way, Aaron befriends Isabel and goes against his deal with Gouge. Bad idea. The rath of Gouge is on the whole crew now. And Spain. And england. And pretty much Isabel is everyones only hope. (You know, no pressure or anything...)

That was not the whole plot for I didn't want to give it all away.

Maybe I should just let the book write itself. It's all going to change anyway. That little voice in the back of my head usually rebels against the plan. And it's not like I'm going to get any ideas just sitting here all gittery from the box of chocolate I just ate and wearing down the spot in from of my head-board.

Ahhhhh. That place infront of my head-board. The thinking spot. The wonderful, wonderful thinking spot. But I'll talk more of that in a more serious blog.

I'm afraid dinner is calling and I'm getting a head ache from the computer screne. So, alas, it's time to say goodbye and goodnight. I love you all. And remember to fully support each other in every rediculous, crazy dream you have. As I do you. :)

Many blessings, Thea. <3

    There was complete silance between them as the two reflective sailors watched the horrizen. Dark, dreary storm clouds made a curtain which covered most of the last pomegranite colored light of that day, but not all. A single strip of pomagranite light could still be seen.

"The suns last shout of goodbye drowned out by the battle cry of the storm." A sigh passed Isabel's lips. "Making it no more than a wisper."

"But the sun will be back," Matt replied. "And out shine the storm."