My New Laptop

Hey, ya'll! It's late so I'm going to make this brief. I just wanted to say that, finally, I got my very own laptop! It's a Hewlett Packard and has a black exterior with a silver interior along with a media center, music player, DVD player, and internet access (most of the websites are blocked, however). Dad plans to upload Microsoft Word, but that hasn't happened yet. But, in short, I am very, very excited to have my own portable computer and can't wait to get started with all of the typing and stuff!

The Blood of the Lamb- Another Excerpt

A crack of light peeked from around the doorway. The girl pushed upon the door, widening the crack into a brilliant beam.

A head of gray bent over a tome, writing running delicately across the page. A beard draped over his knees and brushed the cave floor. He glanced up from his work, peering at them from under bushy eyebrows, the feathery pen never once ceasing its infinite scratching against the paper. “Yes, Cora? What do you want?”

The girl, her eyes never rising to meet her master’s, replied, “The prince is here, seeking your audience, Sir.”

“Very well,” he said, putting the final strokes on his manuscript and laying his pen aside. “You may go.”

“Thank you, my master. I take my leave.” She backed out of the room. The old one’s gaze traced her steps, waiting until the door clanged its tell-tale message and retreating steps were heard.

The man unfolded his hands. “Come, sit. We are alone now- tell me what’s troubling you.”

Castor dragged the chair back from its place and seated himself upon it. Hand diving into his pocket, he extracted the medallion, watching its golden glitter as the lamplight leapt off its surface, dancing to the flicker of its flame.

For a moment, the man stared at it, drawing in shallow, slow breaths. His heart stilled, revived hope filling his soul. Wrapping his fist about it, he held it up, running a trembling finger over its jagged edge, tracing the peaks and valleys with reverent incredulity.

His eyes scanned the boy’s. “Where did you get this?”

Uneasiness cut into Castor, piercing him suddenly with the sharpness lining the prophet’s words. “A girl. I found her on the way to the Lydacian palace. She claims to be a peasant.”

The man was quiet fro a moment more, then laid the medallion down on the des, eyes still riveted to its glittering intrigue. “She might be more than she seems. Have you heard the legend of the half-medallions, lad?”

“No.”

A smile tilted the corners of cracked lips. “I suspected not. It is a closely-guarded tale, one only known amongst those of us called to my work. It is a most sacred secret, the most sacred of its kind…”

A question rose in the glassy blue of the man’s eyes. And, as Castor probed into their deepest depths, he saw a sea frothing with events far preceding the days of his father. A tumultuous sea- wrought with weary and hard times. And yet, every crease, every corner of that old face bespoke a kindly wisdom- one of which the wise only dream to have.

Then, slowly, the man said, “I think I can trust you. Yes, I think I will trust you.”

The chair screeched as it grated against the ground, giving the gentleman just enough room to stand. Turning about, he moved towards a bookshelf sprawling the breadth and length of a wall. Incohesive muttering tumbled from his tongue as he scanned his scrolls.

Castor waited in trained patience, his expression betraying neither thought nor emotion. Carved by the teachings of his father and etched with battles abounding, it remained in its staid state.

“Ah,” the old one said, pulling a large scroll from a lower shelf. “Here it is.”

A thud proclaimed the landing of the scroll upon the desk. Its parchment yellowed and language of old, it stretched out before him- a bottomless source of information.

“What does it say?”

The man looked up, surprise shining from behind his spectacles. “Why? Can’t you read it at all? What? No?! And I thought the palace school was the finest in Sleyvink!”

“As it is, Sir, but we have no need for ancient writing.”

“No need for it? Ahh, but there, my boy, you are wrong.” He re-seated himself, leaning over the table. Pointing towards the words written, he resumed. “Here, with these words and in this tongue, is the secret to life and the secret to death. Scratched upon these papers, readable only to those who are learned in the language of people populating this earth long ago, are instructions to either bring about the greatest good or the greatest evil.”

Gripping the desk, Castor said, “What is it? And what has it to do with my friend?”

The man shook his head. “I cannot tell you. None who are alive can. But I can tell you this- there is a prophecy, begot centuries ago, that says when the bearers of the two halves of a single medallion give their lives for the salvation of the world- then there will be peace.”

He placed the half-medallion into Castor’s hand. “Keep it safe. And watch for those who wish to take it from you, for through them, the world will be doomed to destruction.”

The boy nodded, rising from his seat. “Thank you. I shall do just that.”

The Blood of the Lamb- An Excerpt

Okay, so a while back I posted a bit on the subject of my latest work, The Blood of the Lamb. Well, I have been working on this story for quite a while, and since God has been good enough to give me a love for this work, I wish to share an excerpt with you. Enjoy and feel free to critique!

Golden beams of sunlight streamed through the canopy of trees. Arrenia’s blood pumped through her veins as the lush foliage rushed by. She clenched the mare’s mane, leaning forward as she enjoyed the breath of the wind blowing against her cheek. Her legs hugged the side of the horse. Heart racing, she whipped her head around.

“Faster!” she cried.

“Careful, little maiden,” Castor reminded. “You’ll scare all the game.”

She stretched out her arm, allowing her fingers to brush the branches. He caught it and pulled it in, only to receive a sharp, reprimanding slap upon the hand. Laughing inwardly, he sat marveling at this young creature who dared to oppose him in such a frank, open manner.

Arrenia drove her heels into the horse’s flanks, spurring her onward. Leaning over the mare’s neck, she watched the ground beneath her whizz by….

A small scream issued from her lips as she began to fall. Her hand grappled for a hold- anything that would spare her from landing in a hurting heap upon the path. Dirt sprinkled her face, which lay just inches from the horse’s menacing hooves.

Crushing her fingers in a grasp of steel, Castor yanked on the reins. The creature reared, whinnying its complaints. His legs constricted the horse’s sides as his feet slipped from the stirrups. Arrenia dangled from his grip, slipping slowly with every fleeting second.

Releasing the reins, he reached for her other hand. Cold sweat met his palms as she complied. The animal pawed at the air, sending its rider tumbling from his seat of command….

Castor found himself somersaulting through the atmosphere, Arrenia beneath him, above him, and beneath him again. Pain surged through him as he made contact with the earth. For a moment, they tottered on the brink of a hillside. The shoulders of his shirt gathered in her grasp, and he clung tightly to her arms. Tongues tied in terrification, they glanced from each other to the long descent below.

Then, with a shriek of delight, Arrenia fell backwards, pulling him with her. Toppled-on twigs snapped beneath them, rifling the forest with resonating cracks. Thistles stabbed their sharp blades into their clothing while disarrayed garlands of briars adorned their hair.

They stopped in a clearing. Letting go of each other, they rolled onto their backs, uproarious laughter subsiding to subsequent giggles.

“Well, so much for not scaring the game,” Castor observed, propping himself up with his elbow.

Arrenia plucked a blade of grass from the lush carpet beneath her. Holding it up, she watched as it tipped to and fro, dancing to the gentle whistle of the wind. Birds twittered their harmonious accompaniment. The girl closed her eyes, allowing the breeze to toss the tips of her hair.

Castor looked at her, his brows knitted in the stitches of puzzlement. “What are you doing?”

She swatted at him. “Shh! Listen!”

Delving into momentary silence, he closed his eyes. His mind focused. His ears strained. Then, “What?! I don’t hear anything!”

Arrenia lifted her face towards the sun, allowing it to wrap her in the warmth of its rays. “Shh! Hear it?”

The seconds crawled like ants on a hill. Still nothing. “Tell me, what is it?!”

She tilted her chin a bit higher. “Open your imagination. Listen to the song of Nature. Try it. You’ll hear her pretty voice.”

“Do you always do this?”

She opened her eyes. “Do what?”

“Imagine.”

She reclined, sinking her back deep into the grass. “I just like to appreciate the simple wonders Ino has provided us with.”

Removing his gaze from hers, he stared off into the impenetrable wall of trees, hoping to bore a hole, to be able to relate, to share in her source of wonder. He wet his lips. “I wish I could, too, Arrenia… But life’s too short, too fleeting. One day you’re alive, the next you’re dead.”

Her fingers hugged the stem of a flower, pulling it free from its earthly bonds. The petite, pink petals displayed their faded beauty, each telling the tale of gone days of glory as they drooped from the stem. She stroked the plant gently. “But that’s just it. Maybe life’s too fleeting. So we should enjoy it while we have it. Every…single…moment.”

She pulled one petal away and tossed it to the wind, plucking each in turn until the stem itself stood, stripped of its adornments and bared to the battering wills of the world. She handed it to Castor, and he twirled it between his fingers, examining its helpless, humble appearance.

She’s right, he thought as astonishment throttled all speech. He had certainly never thought of it that way!

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her triumphant smile. He constricted the flower, crushing what little life it had left. What was he doing, letting this Lydacian girl put thoughts in his head? The filthy wretch! Did not everyone know this? That her people could deceive for years and never be caught?

Sighing, he unknotted his clenched hands. And yet, there was something different about this girl. Something he didn’t quite understand….

He shrugged the thought off his shoulders. He’d just have to watch her…and himself.

Concealed by a sea of green foliage, a scout observed them from his post. Squinting, he clarified in his mind the image of the girl, and her identity. Then, he turned from his post and sped northward, the words of news upon his tongue….

A Jolly Time

Baggage cluttered my feet. Tossed by a grueling 4 hours of flight time, my friend Bekah and I sat side-by-side in the Philadelphia airport, waiting and glancing around in anticipation. Slowly, I rose. Was it? Could it really be?


"Look! There they are!" I shouted, waving one arm above my head.


We rushed forward, a torrent of joy bursting forth as we wrapped our arms around our friends Katie, Ellen, and Lauren Jolly once again. Our lips split into smiles. After nearly three months of separation and approximately four months of planning, we were finally here.



You see, after a year of laughs, movie midnight showings, sleepovers, pool hangouts, and good times the Jollys announced in March that they were being transferred to New Jersey, particularly heartbreaking for Bekah and me. However, we dreamed of meeting up again, and although at the time we knew the dreams might be far-fetched, we clung onto it as they pulled out of our driveway on that dreadful last night. And, from that little seed, that one tiny hope, sprung something we will remember for the rest of our lives- a whole six days in New Jersey, including one in New York City. And that wasn't all- Bekah and I were going alone.


So, there we were, jamming into the Jollys' van as we started our way to their house- and a whole a week of fun.



As soon as we arrived, we piled our stuff into the RV standing in the driveway. For the occasion, Mrs. Jolly gave the RV into the 24/7 care of us girls. With the help of a TV, junk food, a refridgerator, bunk beds, a table, our own dishes, and many other ammenities of the home, we quickly fell into a joyous little life and it soon became the private hideaway we loved.



And through this we all discovered that we loved something else- Jane Austen movies. Doritos and Chocolate Chex Mix on hand, we all but consumed the hours with classic tales such as the old Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Persuasion, and Mansfield Park. We rooted for some couples and despised the matching of others. Just for fun, we took turns in the hair and make-up chair, trying hairstyles on each other that (we hoped) looked just like the ones on the TV.


Oh, and another thing about the Jollys- all three of 'em are completely boy-crazy. Literally, one night we spent almost thirty minutes filming ourselves screaming over Caspian (it was really interesting, especially when Bekah began fast-forwarding our favorite part and she lost her "remote privilege").


And when we got tired of boy-talk and movies, we had three options- a walk in the woods (which was quickly eliminated due to numerous ticks discovered), a swim in their ten-foot deep pool (you could dive!), or a round of Liar, which became a favorite pastime of ours. We'd stay up into the late hours of the night, screaming that a person lied and shoving the deck of cards towards the accused. Quite a few times, Ellen ended up with 51 cards in her hand.



But the best part? A trip to New York! For a whole day, we roamed the streets of America's largest city, seeing the world-famous sights.



Climbing to the top of an observation tower, we saw Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the spot where the Twin Towers would have stood, as well as the average structures of New York- all summarized into one sweeping view. On the way up, the elevator roof was transformed into a screen, upon which abbreviated films of events welcomed us to the city. Colorful lights, which shone through the screen, lined the elevator shaft, forever illuminated our way, whether we went up or down.



After that, we perused the shops, not the least of which was the American Girl Place, where dolls, clothes, and toys abound. Although Lauren was the only one still young enough to fully appreciate this store, the scenes artistically depicting dolls interacting with items from different sets brought back nostalgic memories of childhood pastimes to Katie, Ellen, Bekah, and me.



The next stop? F-A-O Schwarz, a humongous toy store comprised of stuffed animals, statuettes, Barbie-doll-like versions of renowned movie characters such as Jack Sparrow and Scarlet O'Hara, and much, much more. It had two levels, and we spent about an hour exploring every nook and cranny. Bekah and I made small purchases- just a few gifts as well as the friendship animals that the four of us had decided to buy as a reminder of our comradship.



As the hours wore on, our feet tired of treading the bustling streets. So, after we exited the toy store, Mrs. Jolly asked, "Would ya'll like to go sit in Central Park for a while?"



Naturally (quite naturally), we said yes and our little group made its way across the street and walked into the thickets of trees surrounding this beautiful place.



For you who have never been to Central Park, let me tell you that it is every bit as lovely as it is written off to be. Carpets of green grass cover the ground, shaded to perfection by a canopy of leaves. Sunlight pokes its head in between the branches of the trees, and a path paves the way through the park. A few vendors line the entrance and elegant carriages trot by, carrying sightseers through the tourist attraction just as they might have done a hundred years ago.



After the brief respite, we boarded the subway and sped along to Times Square. As we stepped out, an immediate bustle was about us as all kinds of people went their ways. Lights and marquees surrounded us as entire theaters marketed their plays. Entire builidngs advertised shows, and nearly everywhere something was playing. My camera kept flashing pictures. As an actress, I could hardly believe my eyes. I was standing in the heart of Broadway!



Wow. So this was where it all came from. Shows with such prestige as The Lion King, The Phantom of the Opera- every Broadway show I had ever heard- came from here!



Although I could have explored New York for days longer, the sun was setting and the time nearing when we must go back to the little rv that stood awaiting our return. So, we boarded the train during rush-hour- which turned out to be another adventure all by itself.

Once we entered the station, we stopped by a wall to re-group. I stared up the stairs we had just come down. They were empty- but not for long. Literally a split second later they were swarming a tumultuous current of human beings, stampeding their way to the train which would take them home.

Minutes later, we stood in line, waiting for the gates to open so that we could go onto the platform. People crowded in around us, the size growing so rapidly that we decided to split off into pairs if we had to in order to board the train. Lauren would go with her parents the baby, Bekah and Ellen were to stay together, and I had my arm firmly linked through Katie's to ensure we didn't get separated.

As soon as the gates opened, there was a mad rush. The people around us began to press in until our whole group was going single file and everyone all but elbowing their way through.

Although we were nearly running, we got on the train in time, and arrived safely back to the rv. Popping in a movie, we enjoyed our ordered-in Chinese (which Bekah had been craving).

The next day (sadly) was our very last. But, despite our reluctancy to end the trip, we decided to make the most of what precious little time our "fearsome foursome" had left. So, we took a trip out to Blockbuster, rented four movies (which I paid for), then went to the store and loaded up on snacks and soda (which Bekah paid for). Then, returning home, we waited for nightfall....

The wrappers of candy crinkled together as we dumped them into one big bowl. Inserting the first movie, we sat down at a table of Liar and let the fun begin.

If you could see us, you'd probably laugh at our version of "fun", which is mainly defined as- record ourselves dancing to the Cha-Cha-Slide (Mrs. Jolly said she heard a thud, thud, thud, and the camper was shaking), dance, discuss boys in both the movies we're watching and other guys (namely celebrities that aren't in that particular movie), play Liar, videotape each other doing stupidity, and, rule #1 of our parties- giggle, giggle, giggle.

However, 5:30 Wednesday morning came much too soon, and before long Bekah and I found ourselves loading our bags into the back of the Jolly's car. Over and over again, we said our good-byes, just as we had nearly 3 months before.

But this time it was a little different. Ever since May this visit had been a dream in our heads that the four of us managed to turn into a reality while being nearly half a country away. And in our minds, in our very hearts, we knew we could do it again.

And we are. Many times before, Katie and Ellen had voiced interest in coming back for the hoedown, a country dance event organized by our co-op. Just last week, Katie texted me saying that her mom had booked tickets for the 18th-23rd of November- five whole days for our fearsome foursome to be complete again!

And what was best about this bash? We stayed up all night!

Character Emotions- Creating the Arc

Okay, so you know that characters in any novel need to be unique and one-of-a-kind. They need to have specific qualities that either help them or deepen the conflict.

You also know that a good novel should have a theme, or something that can be taken away from the story and effect lives. For themes, dig deep inside yourself- keeping in mind what sets your blood to a boiling temperature. Do you hate it when people mistreat people of different skin colors? Is abortion particularly abhorrent to you? Do you threaten to call the cops when you see teenagers road-racing (a novel on taking the things God gave us seriously, maybe?)? Or perhaps you want something more spiritual. Salvation happens to be a favorite among the Christians. In this case, you should have your lead go through a rough, bumpy time that draws him or her to God. No reader will relate to a lead who follows God without a second thought!

But how can you tie your theme and your character(s) together as do some of the most successful plots? By the journey the character takes- by the plot events themselves.

Perhaps the best and most widely used example of this is Charles Dickens's The Christmas Carol. Ebenezer Scrooge is a lean, mean, money-making machine (and not to mention selfish and crabby) until The Ghosts visit him. These three individuals lead him through his past, present, and future. But there is a catch- the future can still be changed! As you probably know, the future changes and so does Scrooge. As I stated before, this is a very good example of something every writer should understand. Something known in our business as the "character arc".

Note in our example how the story is constructed. It revolves around the theme (the virtues of being a good person). Indeed, the conflict is the theme itself! All plot points strive toward one goal- making Scrooge a better person.

In the beginning, we are presented with a character, Ebenezer Scrooge. From the get-go, we're told that he's unpleasant and selfish, and soon Dickens backs this claim up with sufficient glimpses of Scrooge interacting with the people around him. By the end, Scrooge is a different man. Where did the change happen, and how did Dickens accomplish this?

The answer is simple- through the plot. That's the character arc. It's using your character's weaknesses to create further conflict, then using the plot to somehow create a change in your character. But be careful you don't go right out and tell your reader what the change is! This is exposition in the extreme, and it can be a big damper on the sales of your book. Since your character is the one doing the changing, show it in the actions and choices your character makes while catching on to the lesson in play. If done right, this should produce a beautiful, clear combination of character, conflict, and theme.

Okay, so how do you create the character arc? First, get a theme in mind. The rest is a duet between the plot and the character in question. For the best kind of character arc, think about your character's weaknesses. Is she proud? Does he think honor is to be sought above all else? Does she think she can live her life without God? Is he calloused and uncaring? Abusive? Impatient? The possibilities are endless.

Now, pick a weakness you want to have changed by the end of the book. What's the opposite of the weakness? For the girl who believes she can live her life without God, the opposite is living her life following in God's footsteps. What plot events drive her towards (and through) that change?

If you've already planned your plot, examine how you challenge your characters. The best authors corner their characters- they attack them from the outside-in and the inside-out, only providing an outlet for escape once the story has run its course. Consider the conflicts that attack your character's inner soul, question their morals and everything they've every believed in. How does your character reply to these attacks? Through attack and reply, your character should battle her way through the arc until you reveal to her an outlet, the light at the end of the tunnel. And when she comes out of that tunnel, she should be changed.

The character arc will make or break you. It has to be (simultaneously) subtle, stamped in bold letters over everything, and realistic. Moreover, it has to come from two sources- the plot and the character. Creating inner conflict (the stuff in the plot's chemistry that churns the wheels of the character arc) will be discussed later. Good night!

An Insight on My Latest Work....

Night cloaked the earth in a robe of darkness. Creaking in protest, the trees swayed beneath the blow of the wind. Branches protruded into the path, their arms reaching for anything in their way. Lucrious fitted an arrow to his string, breath puffing at his lips. It would not be long now...he could hear her footsteps in the distance....

So begins my latest work, The Blood of the Lamb. It is one of my favorite plot lines so far and probably the best I've produced in a while.

While I'm explaining to you a bit about this book, I want to show you a little bit of what I do. By now everyone should know that writing a novel takes more than just sitting down to write. It also takes dedication, perseverance, adn the ability to survive the arduous tasks of creating characters as well as a good story.

First, as a fledgling novel, this book was just a certain snapshot of two lovers, brought together by some divine providence to a woodland path in the middle of the rain. That's how many of my story ideas come to me- very random scenes that just happen to pop into my head and say, "Hey! I'm your next bestseller- write me!"

But sometimes I don't begin work right away because I'm writing another book. However, sooner or later, something convinces me to write my novel idea.

This time, it was a bit more dramatic than others. My friends and I went to the midnight showing of Prince Caspian, and, naturally, that fired my desire to begin work on the very fantasy/adventure/romance idea that had been brooding in my mind for weeks.

The next step I tried (which works well for individual scene-plotting), was setting dialogue to that particular part. At this time in the process, the writer gets to begin experimenting with the whys and hows of the story. Why in the world would a girl and boy be crazy enough to be getting their elegant clothing sopping wet?

It's not exactly an intellectually intelligent question, but it's a start. And you'd be surprised at what can happen. For instance, one of the answers to a question aroused by an early-on scene was that my hero should find out that my heroine is engaged to his evil brother. And that would lead me to the question why is she engaged? How did he find out? Or even, why did she hide it from him?

A whole new list of possibilities opens up. Of course, I won't use every possible answer (and by the time the book is hopefully out into the world, that part may have been edited out), but I will pick what I believe is best for the story and interests the reader.

That brings another important topic to my mind- interest. It's vital to the survival of many books, since readers are less likely to finish a novel which holds no interest for them. How do you supply that interest?

Let's think about it this way. My hero and heroine, who fall in love even though they are prince and princess of two countries who are at war with one another, are on a mission to destroy a brooding evil that is silently preparing to devastate both countries. How would you like it if, on the first try, my two leads achieved their goal? It most likely wouldn't be the book you'd be telling all of your friends to read, would it?

Of course not! Readers read to experience the hurdles of life and worry how the characters are going to get over them, not to have the full story served on a platter in chapter 1. So, what I try to do in my stories is heighten the tension with each advancing plot part. What if my heroine is trapped in a cell awaiting her execution and her only hope is her best friend...who betrays her by giving away the plot to free her, as well as valuable information, to the enemy?

See how it works? Now the poor girl is in a cell all alone, her plans discovered, awaiting her execution, and not knowing who she can trust. And on top of that, her opponents are about to crush everything she's worked so hard to gain! So, what does she do about it?

That would be my next question, but I think you get the point of this little lesson. I hope that through this you have had a glance at just some of the hard work that goes into writing. Well, it's late and I should go. Hopefully, I'll be getting some more about this book on here. See you then!

The Phantom of the Opera- Not to be Missed!

Note: If you want to hear some of the music that we heard live from stage, please press the play button on the music player below this post

I waited anxiously, pacing the house and doing whatever my hands found to do. Slowly, the hours ticked by. Would it ever be time?

As a birthday celebration, Mom and Dad bought three tickets to one of Broadway's most famed plays, The Phantom of the Opera, which just happened to be showing at the Majestic Theater in downtown San Antonio. Many of my friends had gone, and even those who had hated the movie came back with raging accolades. Needless to say, I was excited.

Based on Gaston Leroux's Le Fantome de L'Opera, Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera spotlights an opera composer who, haunted by his deformed appearance, cowers behind a mask and writes his music from the depths of his lair. When he hears the voice of aspiring opera singer Miss Christine Daae, however, he ventures into the world above to coax her into returning with him and becoming his bride. But when Miss Daae's childhood sweetheart Raoul appears on the love scene, will the Phantom's enraged schemes endanger the lives of all? What awaits Christine if she crosses " the point of no return"? Will she continue to love her "angel of music" or leave this lonely man to his fate?

Now the longest running Broadway play in history, The Phantom of the Opera is truly a visual and auditory treat. I've seen the movie as well, and I must say that the play is even better. The characters are more real, the emotions crisper, the orchestra comes to life, and the singing is superb. Combine that with breathtaking special effects and you've got a play that is every bit as spectacular as the critics write it off as. Aka, if it comes to a stage near you, it is not to be missed!

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