Update - My Hero Excerpt!

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Who has the most neglected blog on the internet, right?

I've learned that I punish myself for not writing by not allowing myself to make a blog post.

Which tells you just how long I went without writing.

But, for the past few days, I've been in a frenzy of writing productivity working on my long-overdue 2010 NaNo Novel!

Things are going very well. You would not believe how effective getting rid of Zach was.

I also changed a male character to a female character, which will make things a tiny bit tricky (you have no idea how annoying it is to have to change the masculine to feminine EVERYWHERE I've already written with this character).

I'll pause and explain WHY I did that.

I have 3 NaNoWriMo novels that are started and need to be rewritten to be finished. All three of those novels, 1) My Hero, 2) The Lion and the Frog, and 3) Leprechaun Holiday, have a 'big brother' character. This may have something to do with the fact that I don't have an older brother and have always wanted one.

Besides the 3 NaNo Novels, I have a 2-book set in my head based on the fairy tale Thumbelina, 4) Flower & Thorn, and 5) Tommelise, which will ALSO have a big brother character in it.

[Why are there too many story ideas and not enough time/energy to write them?]

So, I figured that wouldn't do. Books #2, #4, and #5 DEPEND on having a big brother character. So I'm working with what can be changed. Luckily, the fastest and easiest fix is to switch the big brother in My Hero to a big sister.

It actually makes more sense in the long run.

Yay!

Aside from those 5 potential novels, I actually have a musical in my head right now. The plot was originally from a story (obviously), but the story is about a couple who rashly decide to break their engagement off, and how they eventually learn they don't want to be with anyone else.

[WHY!?]

So, anyway, that's an update on what I'm working on.

And, to reward you for coming back to my blog after my embarrassing hiatus, I give you:

A NOVEL EXCERPT!

As usual, this is a first draft, so it may eventually be completely different, but for the time-being, its one of my favorite scenes I've written thus far. It's also one of those PAY ATTENTION BECAUSE EVERYTHING IN THIS SCENE WILL COME BACK AT SOME POINT IN THE BOOK scenes.

Enjoy!

“Look out!” a voice yelped.

Peach skidded to a stop right in front of Fr. Albert Gregg, the priest from Claypool who came to Bendbridge every Sunday to say the 10 a.m. Mass. Bendbridge had no priest of its own, only the big, broken down, supposedly haunted church. . Peach realized she and Sukie were nearly to the skate park – she was standing in the shadow of the St. Flannan’s Church steeple. Without thinking, Peach took a picture of Fr. Gregg’s startled face.

He laughed. “I look that good, huh?”

“Sorry, Father!” Peach cried. “I wasn’t watching where I was going,”

“No trouble,” he said. He lifted the stack of papers he held in his hands. “I’m just here to hang these around town,” He held one of them up, and Peach read the header quickly.  

ANNOUNCEMENT:

CHURCH OF ST. FLANNAN’S TO BE CLOSED AND DEMOLISHED SPRING 2011

Peach gasped involuntarily. “Oh my gosh – really?”

Fr. Gregg nodded, looking a little crestfallen. “Unfortunately, St. Flannan’s is being closed. The bishop sees no point in trying to keep it open. It needs too many repairs and doesn’t get enough donations,”

For some reason, Peach felt like crying. She wasn’t sure why. “I don’t want it to close,” she said sadly.

Fr. Gregg raised his eyebrows. “Do you go to church every Sunday, Patricia?”

Peach blushed, and shook her head sheepishly. “My mom works a lot of Sunday’s, and she wants me to stay home and clean for our renters, and…”

Fr. Gregg held up a hand to stop her. “I don’t need a confession, Patricia, I’m just trying to make a point. Very few people in Bendbridge even come to church every Sunday. And most of the people who do attend Mass drive to Claypool instead of going here in town. No one really likes the church. They all say it’s haunted. And maybe they’re right. Sometimes I’ve gotten plenty spooked in there. Anyway, it’ll be fine, Patricia. Anyone who is still interested in attending Mass can drive to Claypool either Saturday or Sunday,”

“Peach?” Sukie called from further down the sidewalk.

“Coming!” Peach replied, waving to her friend. She looked back at Fr. Gregg. “I’m still sorry. I’d go to Mass every day to keep it open. I’m going to miss it,”

Fr. Gregg smiled at her, and made her feel very stupid by patting her helmet. “Don’t get upset about any of it, Patricia. Keep reading your bible and praying, and everything will be fine,”

He hurried away into the Church, and Peach watched him go. She always felt like Fr. Gregg didn’t take anyone in Bendbridge seriously, and that made her sad, too.

She skated quickly to catch up with Sukie at the corner. They stopped to let some cars pass, and Peach found herself staring into the cemetery behind St. Flannan’s.

“What was that all about?” Sukie asked.

Peach sighed. “The church is going to close and they’re gonna tear it down in the spring,”

“Really?” Sukie sounded surprised. “Too bad. I wonder what they’ll put here instead. They can’t exactly move the cemetery,”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Peach said. Her Grandpa Roy’s grave was in the St. Flannan Cemetary. She hoped they didn’t stick a McDonalds or anything equally disrespectful in the center of town once the Church was gone. 

Another NaNo Excerpt

This one is a little different. My human character accidentally finds out that the two guys she's been traveling Europe with are really an elf and a leprechaun when a somewhat mad professor corners them in Germany. It's a kind of funny and lighthearted scene, but, unfortunately, this is where I've gotten stuck. Enjoy!

Barbara was reading the pamphlet. “Oh my gosh. Do you really have an extra toe?”

Padraig blinked. He opened his mouth, glanced at Professor Bunk, and replied, “No, but I believe my sister does,”

“So that’s an uncommon trait?” the professor said, looking surprised.

“Very,” Padraig replied.

“Well…I heard once that one in every hundred human babies is born with an extra digit,” Barbara murmured. “If that makes you feel better,”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” Padraig said.

“It also says that you can… pop?” Barbara said, raising her eyebrows.

“Nope. That would also be my sister,” Padraig said. “I’ve never… erm… popped, in my life,”

“Go to the part about wishes!” Professor Bunk cried, practically crawling across the table in excitement. “Read! Read! That’s what makes Padraig special!”

Barbara’s eyes flitted back and forth as she searched for the portion the professor was talking about, and then she found it and kept reading. Her lips parted a little bit. Her eyes grew wider and wider. Finally, she frowned, and sat back, blinking. 

Padraig and Stian simultaneously took her hands, gazing at her worriedly.

Barbara slowly turned to Padraig, still blinking more rapidly than usual. “What?” she said.

David Bunk looked utterly delighted. “Wondrous, isn’t it?”

“Wait—what all did you write about me?” Padraig asked, snatching the pamphlet away from Barbara.

He read it quickly: Certain very few leprechauns have the ability to create gold. This in itself is remarkable, but what is more remarkable still is that even fewer leprechauns are sometimes born with the ability to make magic gold. This gold, when given to another, contains a small amount of magic specifically cast to grant one possible wish to the recipient. This gold does not grant a wish to leprechauns, and it is unknown if there are any other creatures who are immune to the wish magic. This magical gift is extremely rare; less than a .0001% of leprechauns, even in local legend, have possessed. It is believed that such a powerful gift has strange physical side effects; particularly that when a leprechaun should grant a wish, he should flee from the person he has granted the wish to for an indeterminate amount of time. Other side effects known to have occurred are lightheadedness, nausea, and trifling headaches.

“Hm. Surprisingly accurate, considering your stupid illustrations,” Padraig said encouragingly to the professor. 

“No, wait!” Barbara interrupted. “Wait!” She slammed her hands down on the table, rattling the china and causing half a slice of kugelkopf to bounce onto the floor.

“Stop, just stop!” she insisted. She turned and glared at Padraig. Padraig leaned away from her in terror as the full fury of a woman scorned washed over him. She just glared at him for about two minutes. “Well?” she said.

Padraig sighed heavily, and leaned back towards her. “Okay. Here you go. You want proof, Barbara Peplum? Here you go.” He showed her his right hand, than balled it into a fist. He opened his hand slowly to reveal a small, shiny gold coin that had the words DHÉANAMH MIAN printed on it.

Barbara stared down at it in shock for a moment, and looked up at Padraig’s face. “So it’s true. It’s true. You’re… you’re a leprechaun. You’re for real,”

NaNoWriMo 2012: The Nineteenth Chapter

This is the entire nineteenth chapter of my NaNo Novel, Leprechaun Holiday. It is one of my favorite scenes in my novel, because its a really heartfelt piece, for both me and Padraig Offaly.
At a certain point a few days before NaNoWriMo story started, I got this idea in my head called 'The Superman Complex'.
Superman has a lot of amazing powers, but whenever he uses them, he vanishes. No one ever gets to thank the hero, and they never truly understand him.
One of the biggest plot points in my novel is that my Leprechaun grants wishes, and every time he does, he runs away. He has a Superman Complex. So this is the scene that I wrote embodying that whole idea. It is set at the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France. It is early December.
Enjoy!

The Nineteenth Chapter

The Leprechaun and the ‘Superman Complex’

Padraig needed some fresh air. He left the apartment late during the evening, around 9:30 p.m., and walked to the Eiffel Tower. It was not something he had planned on doing, but everything had gone so completely and unexpectedly wrong, he figured it might be worth trying something completely unexpected. On his way there, he bought a tall bottle of beer.

The tower looked just like it did in all those romantic pictures of Paris at night. There was hardly a soul around for once, and Padraig went up to the left front support of the tower and sat down on the steps tiredly. A small line of people was going in at the ticket counter, but Padraig didn’t feel like going up just yet. So he just sat in the glow of the Eiffel Tower, drinking his beer, and thinking, for a long time.

He thought about what his life had been like five years ago, and before that fateful day. The day Edwin died.

As he followed his gloomy, nostalgic train of thought, for some reason he started to think about Superman.  He remembered being seven years old and thinking Superman was the greatest thing in the world. He would watch the old cartoons with his dad on Saturday mornings. But what he was really thinking about was this; I’m just like Superman. I have an incredible gift, but I’m the only one. And whenever I use it to help anyone, I have to leave. I just run away. I never let anyone thank me. I never let anyone really know me. Because I’m the only one. No one can help me. No one can show me who I am. I’m the only one with super strength and heat vision. No one will ever understand how it feels.

But every time Superman saved Lois Lane, even though he flew away and she never got to thank him, he always saw her again. Once upon a time, that had been Padraig, too. He’d grant a wish, need to run away, but he could return. All the times he’d granted Edwin one more little wish, just to help his best friend one more time. All the mornings he stuck a coin in Mrs. Walsh’s mailbox for her to find, just so she could pay the rent one more time. All the Sundays he dropped a little gold coin in the offering plate, knowing Mr. Doherty, the parish treasurer, would put it to good use.

All that had stopped after Edwin died. The Superman Complex had changed dramatically. He still ran away; but these days, he never came back.

Now, his ‘super powers’ were more like his personal kryptonite than anything else.

“Superman was really lucky,” Padraig murmured softly to himself. “I think that’s the big difference between him and me,”

But, there was one thing about Superman no one could ever deny. No matter what, he did the right thing. He kept his promises, he paid for his mistakes, and he always managed to save the day.

Padraig finished his beer, and got up to throw the bottle in a waste bin. Then he went into the ticket office, and bought a ticket to the top of the tower. He took the elevator up and just stood up there for a long time, staring out at all the glittering, golden lights of Paris. If he leaned forward and held out his arms, it was like he was flying.

At 10:45, someone came up to him and explained that the tower was closing in fifteen minutes, and he needed to head down. Padraig did, and then just sat down on the steps again. He thought about everything and everyone. He thought about poor missing Deirdre. He thought about Leal and Sandrine. He thought about Stian and his amazing magical powers. He thought about his parents; his mother who understood him too well and his father who didn’t understand him at all. He thought about Barbara Peplum, especially her huge head of curly hair and the way it bounced when she moved. He thought about Edwin. My goodness, he hadn’t thought about Edwin so long and hard in many, many years.

And he thought about Superman.

By morning, Padraig had made up his mind. It was time to be Superman. It was time to do the right thing, even if it hurt, and especially because it would mean making a sacrifice. 

NaNoWriMo Day 16: BOOK TRAILER

Well, instead of actually writing, which is what I should have been doing, I made my NaNo Novel a trailer. 

It was a lot of fun, so I figure it was worth getting a little behind on my word count to finish up. Unfortunately, I have no way of posting it to this blog, but I was able to post it to my tumblr, and here is a link for it! Feel free to watch it and tell me what you think! 

My family loves it, and my mom is pestering me to let her read the book as soon as December 1st gets here. I have agreed to this only because I need someone to edit it for me. 

My current word count is 24,329, and it should be at least 26,672, but I have a quiet house today, so I'll be working ahead, hopefully enough that I won't have to write so much during the Thanksgiving holiday, as we're having a lot of company over!

Would anyone care for an excerpt to go with their trailer? Note that 'eejit' is the Irish pronunciation of 'idiot'. Enjoy!

Finally, it was time for Padraig to be on his way. He hung the pink/red plaid duffel over his right shoulder and held his suitcase in his left hand. That was all he had, and, hopefully, all he’d need. The suitcase was heavy. His back pocket seemed even heavier, holding that bleedin’ Visa card with who-knew-how-much money just waiting for him to spend all over Europe.

Gosh, his back hurt.

He stood in front of his family’s tiny white cottage with its gray roof, surrounded by meadows where the ship grazed. He just stood there, waiting to start off down the road.

He looked at his family, who were eagerly taking pictures of him and giving last-minute advice. Ruari finally remembered to say, “Get me something everywhere you go! It doesn’t matter what, just get me something, as long as its not really made in China! Promise me!”

Padraig sighed. “I promise Ruari.” He set his duffel and suitcase down, and opened his arms up. “Come here,”

Ruari took and running start and tackled him, which was surprisingly painful considering she only weighed about thirty-six kilograms. He held his baby sister tight, his heart pounding painfully inside his chest. He was going to miss the little devil so much. She talked his ear off and made him promise all sorts of ridiculous things, but he didn’t mind. He even forgave her for sitting on him at 7:30 in the morning.

Next he hugged his dad one more time, though they said nothing to each other.

Then he hugged his mother tight, nodded at everything she said, and assured her he’d be better when he got home. Better. Maybe that was a promise he could actually keep.

Finally, he opened his arms up and smiled at Deirdre, but she just looked at him, her eyes filled with anger and worry. “Bye, Porry,” she said.

“Didi,” he said. “Don’t I get a hug?”

Reluctantly, she went to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Eejit baby brother. You better be happy when you come home. I miss the happy Porry,”
“I’ll try,” he said. She tried to pull away, and he hugged her tighter. “Deirdre,” he whispered. “Are you really okay?”

Deirdre shook her head. “No. But you’re leaving. It’s not your problem, Padraig. Go and get better. Go.”

She pushed him gently but firmly away and walked back into the house.

Padraig watched her go, than saluted weakly to his parents and Ruari. Then he picked up his bags and turned his back on Slieve Bloom. He walked quickly, listening to Aoifa call out after him and Ruari singing him The Parting Glass, but he didn’t look back once. He didn’t look back, because he knew if he did, he would start crying and he might never stop. He hadn’t cried in five years and he didn’t want to ever do it again.

He had a three day walk ahead of him and a tight schedule, and his back was killing him. 

Snow White story, another excerpt

I've finally gotten my enthusiasm back for this one after watching the new movie Mirror Mirror , so I decided to post something that's already finished from it; the scene in which Snow White's 'prince' brings her 'back to life' with a kiss. 

Check out the two previous posts having to do with this story:

Long Live the Brothers Grimm

Snow White's Coffin

Enjoy!

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Rumors of the wildest and most startling nature had been flying thick and fast through the village of Rhine, and they all had started in the forest right on the border of Spoon. It wasn’t too far, but an opportunity to see for himself didn’t come for a while.

As he came slowly into the clearing, he understood, and believed.

“So. Its…true, than. She killed her,”

For there, laying on a golden pyre, a glass cover pushed back, lay Snow White.

Her body showed no signs of decay as he drew closer, and the rumors had begun months ago. It did seem fitting that the body of the fairest girl in the land should remain incorrupt.

Finally, Hunter stood right beside Snow White, gazing down at her, resplendent unto death. They should keep her covered…whoever did this. She’s in danger this way.

“This is my fault,” Hunter breathed. “I shouldn’t have just sent you off. I should have taken you…hidden you. I could have done my job. I could’ve kept you safe. I didn’t. And I’m sorry, Snow White. I’m sorry,”

Her face was whiter than ever, like frozen marble, and when he dared reach out and gently touch her hand, it, too, was like ice.

“Dead,” he breathed. “It seems selfish, but…at least I didn’t have to kill you. That would’ve been…so much harder. At least now…hopefully…you have some peace. The Queen never let you have any here.”
He was saddened to the depths of his soul, not so much that Snow White was dead. She had surely been drawn straight into Heaven, pure and deserving. But he was very, very sad that he had never had to courage to take risks and make mistakes. Maybe it would have ended in him losing his head, but it truly would have been better than this guilt. Better than knowing everything he didn’t do. Everything he could have done.

“I can’t make this right. Its too late. But I want you to know Snow White…if you hear my humble prayers…that I loved you. I loved you…not because you were beautiful, but because…because all my life, I waited for you. When I found you…I thought…” he sighed.

“You were a princess. I was your guard. I had to keep you safe, whether I loved you or not. I miss you, Snow White. I miss your laugh and your smile…I just wish I had taken the chance to get to know you. To be sure. To let you know…in spite of the consequences…how I felt about you.”

Deciding, for once in his life, to be bold, he bent down, gazing at her beautiful face, so peaceful and still, and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Goodbye.”

He bent further, and kissed her.

Her lips were frigid, but soft. He kissed her softly and firmly, closing his eyes, cherishing this moment, even though it was too late. Its never too late to love. Its just…too late for it to matter.

He kissed her longer than was proper, certainly, but it felt right. It felt…real. True.

He breathed in the scent of her, still vanilla and cherry blossoms, mingled with the intoxicating scent of dried roses.

Finally, he drew away, and opened his eyes.

Snow White’s sparkling violet eyes stared back at him.

Composition Qtr 3 Week 2 Essay, Creating the Right Mood

Image found on DeviantArt
The Forest

            My brother Seth and I have been in the forest.

            We’d only meant to go in after his notebook pages. It had been windy all day, and as we walked up our long gravel driveway, he was showing me what he’d been working on. A strange but beautiful glow was settling over us, and I noticed that it was pale orange shafts of sunlight sneaking in between the trees of the forest we were never allowed to go in. I was about to ask if he noticed it, too, when a particularly strong gust caught two loose pages from the notebook he held open and carried them off. They whisked right into the trees as if sucked by some great, powerful vacuum. He couldn’t tell which pages were gone, and was anxious that they could have been very important.

            He hurried after the pages, but I hesitated. Our father had told us never to go into the forest. It was a strange place; I sometimes saw figures coming and going that never looked quite human or quite animal when I looked out my window at night, and Seth said he once heard voices and animal calls he’d never heard before.

            “Seth!” I called. “Wait! Are you sure this is a good idea?”

            “Come on, wimp!” he called back. “If you don’t want to help look, go back to the house like a scared little girl!”

            That’s how I knew Seth really wanted me to come. He would never make fun of me like that. He was scared, too. There was something unnatural, and deliberate about this. It was clear by the way the light slipping through the trees was going from orange to deep red. So I swallowed hard and hurried after him, dropping my backpack on the grass so I wouldn’t have to carry it while we searched. I heard Canadian geese honking overhead, and looking over my shoulder to see them flying in an untidy V. The wind was cold against my cheeks, and I pulled my unzipped jacket tighter over my chest. The zipper was broken, and I hadn’t asked my mom to fix it yet.

            I looked in front of me again, and drew up alongside Seth, who had slowed to a walk and was gazing uncertainly into the trees.

            “Is it worth it?” I panted. A chill had come over the air…a warm chill. It made no sense, but that red, umber glow of filtered sunshine was as chilling as it was illuminating. But the chill was not frightening; it was painful, pure, and wondrous.

            Its very lack of terror was what scared us.

            He bit his lower lip, and then nodded firmly. His eyes were grim. “It must have been important. I must have been close.”

            He spoke as if someone were out to get his life’s work…those abstract sketches of plants and animals. I had always been proud of how observant Seth was, but now I had the same eerie feeling he did about those sketches in his tattered blue notebook. Something was not right.

            Seth took my hand, which he never does. His palms were sweaty. He scanned the forest, trying to glimpse his papers before we actually entered the forest, but my eyes stayed on him. I sensed something significant in the way the warm red light washed over his pale face. I saw faint shimmers, like heat waves, all around us. I swear I heard the faint music of a single tin flute carry to us from somewhere in the forest. Seth’s snapping eyes made me think he heard it, too.

            “There!” he suddenly cried. I looked where he pointed, and saw a flash of white lined paper with neat blue print covering every inch, not far into the trees. He gripped my hand tighter, and we plunged together into the forest.

            The sounds of honking geese ceased. The wind dropped away from the air as though it had suddenly become as heavy as a stone. We froze, and watched as those two pieces of notebook paper whirled without a breeze along with the fallen leaves, broken twigs, and mulch that lay upon the forest floor.

            A noise like small, consistent notes on a xylophone could be heard in the air, and I saw what looked like silver snow sprinkling slower than gravity down from the treetops.

            “Can you move?” Seth asked. His faint whispered pressed against the perfect, sweet silence like an unwanted visitor.

            I nodded. The amber glow embraced us like old friends, and this time, it felt warm.

            This place was nothing like we’d thought, but everything we assumed.

            Magical.