Amber and Audra's Adventures

Hello my dear little peoples.

I thought I would just stop by and update you on my life. I want to finish listening to "Dreams" by Van Halen; that's why I'm writing this. Don't you feel special?

I just worked on ML for about 15 minutes, using Amber's suggestions from our crit meeting with our other good writing buddy, Victoria R. (not either of our sisters.)  (Though we discussed having them join us. lol.) Our other crit partner, Monica, couldn't make it because of an orthodontist appointment. Anyway, it was a fun time of coffee, talking, reading, and then me eating the rest of Amber and Victoria's food. Yeah, good times.

Tonight, I went to see The Miracle Worker with Victoria R. at a college about an hour away. One of my best friends, Jessica, was in it as Helen Keller. It made me cry. Vi and I leaned over and said to each other several times, "Gosh, she's amazing!" or "Wow, she is so good!" And she is. Jess, if you read this, YOU. WERE. AMAZING. You made me cry. I have never, ever, EVER done that before at a play. Jess was brilliant and literally left me speechless. I'm so glad that this was the first production I saw her in and I'm coming to everyone I possibly can after this.

But anyway, that is my little rambling for tonight.

G'night.

And Happy Valentine's Day.

-Audra

Alright Dears,

I am not a "blogger," but I feel an insatiable urge to be baptized into the world of "bloggers" for one reason: I am a procrastinator. Right now, I am avoiding, in every possible way, doing my algebra homework. I hate algebra. It is disgusting and vile and base.

After writing that last sentence, I have now decided to stop procrastinating and downing the name of algebra.

Thanks for reading

I got some of these tips from Mary E. DeMuth. I'd highly suggest checking out her blog if you're a writer. (Just click her name. It'll take you to her blog. She also operates The Writing Spa, which is where the blog originates from.)

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Pray. Ask God to give you specific direction about your year. Does He want you to slow down? Hone one message? Write for a variety of magazines? Finish that book. Be still enough to hear His voice.

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Prayer team. Ask several friends who love to pray to become part of your prayer team. Send weekly reminders; give pieces of your writing to them; offer to pray for them. If you'd like to have God shape your career this year, develop a prayer team.

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Yell for joy when something great happens. We're such a busy lot. Life speeds by. We forget to stop and holler when we get an acceptance letter. Celebrate. Rejoice. Do a dance. Tell your other writer friends.

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Never take rejection personally. That's a hard one. This year, try to see rejection as a clinical thing. Your piece simply doesn't work for that market. OK. Now take it and send it somewhere else. Use rejection as a springboard to try, try again.

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Exegete your life. Pull out things that God is saying. Write them down. Look at your life. Journal. A lot of my nonfiction results from me culling through my journals.

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Write every day.

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Wait before you hit "send." If you're sending a "helpful" email to a colleague, wait, wait, wait. This is a small industry.

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Rein in your flowery prose. Slay those adverbs. Cut away double adjectives (She's a beautiful, smiling girl. Keep one. Not both.) When you become too enamored with your own poetic genius, cut away the superfluous.

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Ignore rules on your first draft. Just write the puppy. Silence that inner editor. If you can't do that, give your pesky editor a little spiral notebook. Jot down your notes about your story or nonfiction piece there, but keep writing.

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Tackle something new. Ever write haikus? Try your hand. Afraid of short stories? Write one and enter a contest. Write a tribute to a friend or family member. Exercise your writer muscles.

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Expect disappointment. It will come in all sorts of frustrating forms in 2009. But if you expect it as normative in a writing career, you can more easily dust your feet off and keep at it. Great writers are not necessarily those with great talent. They're good writers who keep going, who persevere through disappointment.

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Read widely. You'll never improve your writing if you don't read widely. Read outside your genre. Read books friends recommend to you. Pick up an old, dusty book. All sorts of books are out there, begging to be read. Read and learn from each, even if it means learning what not to do.

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Love those in the industry. Seek to bless industry folks this year in tangible ways. Meet your deadlines. Pray for editors. Send encouraging notes of thanks.

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Yammer about someone else. We can so easily get caught up in our own publicity and marketing machines that we forget the simple joy and beauty of promoting others. Seek to find the pearls in others' writing and then talk about that.

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Yield to your editors. You'll be edited all year by your critique group, your editors, your friends, your agent. Instead of arguing, listen. Think it through. Believe that someone outside your writing has the blessing of a fresh perspective.

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Excavate something new. There are tons of books out there regurgitating the same things over and over and over again. Dig deep inside yourself. Mine the depths of Jesus. Hear afresh. Share fresh insights. Though truth does not change, the way we package it may. Dare to say something new instead of relegating your writing to mimicry.

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Always make goals. What would you like to see happen to you this year? Write it down. Some examples: Write a book. Write a proposal. Send out five query letters a week. Go to a writer conference. Start a writers group. Submit poetry to a contest. Send out proposal to ten agents

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Rest in God's sovereignty. Yes, work hard. Put others first. Do your homework. Write. Learn. But realize it all rests in the capable hands of a sovereign God. He holds your career in His strong hands. He knows the past, the present, the future. Rest it all in Him. Trust that He knows the right thing for you.

Best wishes,

Audra

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Amber got me into this, and right now, this/these are all I really have to share with you. ML and Eva aren't ready to see your eyes yet. My apologies, but tis the truth. I'd rather you read some really good writing from me and then stick me on your favorite authors list on Facebook.

Anticipation, exclamation, all these things run through me, the pain and sorrow, the wide ruled rain, the stately marches that I see, they captivate me and I state in wide eyed wonder "Oh, the beauty of it all." Yellow, and grey, the flame reaches taller, taller, then shrinks back again and a trumpet blows. The white speaker turns the diamond gleams ever brighter, as I run faster, ever faster, plaid and green, trumpets, and violins, a gold insignia, crescendoing, crescendoing, all running together, slurred, faster, faster still, 1232 in October, I look at the folder, expecting something to happen, but nothing does; the pink, the green, the holly the ivy, my mind is infiltrated, weakening, stopping, shortening, giving in, not quite sure what to do. I feel surrounded, totally entrapped, there's no way to get out and no going back. There's no rewind where I can start over, no fast forward to get this done with; I have to persevere on as they close in, slowly now, watching me carefully, wondering what my next move will be; so many things run through my head, things I should edit, things I should do, what I should say, I don't know anymore what I should be doing. One day, maybe I'll figure it out, but spur of the moment isn't always the best time to try to figure that out. The horn section begins to play, and I wonder, "What silliness is this?" Then all goes quiet. Influences, influences, so many, yet so many I can't choose, too many that would take me down the wrong path, lead me the wrong way, and leave me a sorry, helpless, sickening human being. The cold, the numb, they wear at me, slowly forcing me to succumb, as my thoughts race to and fro, tyring to retain some form of sanity, even if it's just a small dot. I can't hold up too much longer, but I have to make it. I can, I will. I won't back down. I lay back and sleep, calming down, as dreams of dancers and ballet music, candles and notebooks, a ticking timer, all dance before me, seeming to confuse me while they calm me, bewilder me. The likeness of The Great Stone Face will not be found here, for one speaks words that he's never felt, while another yearns for the likeness to be found, just one. So many times we've been let down, crowning those undeserving of it, he the only sensible one among us. The jolt awakens me and I find myself ever confused, ever weakening, ever holding back, ever trying not to give in, ever hoping for some reprieve, ever hoping for the time this will end, when the candle will die, the flame still alive, as I sit here waiting, waiting, waiting, watching.

-Audra

I woke up this morning

To a beautiful surprise-

A lovely snow was falling

Gently upon the ground.

I grinned with delight

As I looked out the window

Watching the roadways

Slowly be wrapped under

A cocoon of snow.

-Audra

*Note* - I started this post January 16, but didn't have time to finish it up; this is why it says "I didn't really want to post this last night, so I didn't." It's because I started writing this the day after.

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I didn't really want to post this last night, so I didn't. But today, I think I'm ready to tell on myself.

I've started back running in an effort to get myself back into better shape. After about three days of not running, I knew I needed to get back out, or I was going to have to start over.

So I got my butt out the door. But before doing so, my mom told me (clad only in tights, sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt and t shirt) that because it was very cold (probably somewhere around 25-30 degrees, because there was ice all over the ground when I stepped outside) that I should probably wear some more layers and a hat.

Well...I decided that I knew what I was doing and that I was fine.

As I went out the door, the lovely wind God has made decided to greet me with a nice, frigid blast of air. But no matter. "I can do this," I thought.

And so I began to run. Less than a quarter mile down the road, my hands went numb. Then my face. My ears were next. Finally, by the time I was almost to the half mile mark from home, my legs started freezing up.

Now, in case you don't know, you're legs locking up on you while running isn't a good situation to be in.

Panic started setting in. Not only were my hands clamped around my iPod, unable to move; they were purple. Yes, I said purple. Panting for breath, I started desperately praying,  realizing just how stupid I had been. My mom had known exactly what she was talking about.

But did I listen?

No.

I did a quick turnabout, and ended up cutting through a neighbor's yard to bypass a huge stretch of road. The whole entire run back home, I was praying out loud with each breath, "God, I'm sorry. God, I'm stupid. God, get me back home. God, please don't let me lose my fingers. I'll never be able to write again. Please, please, please," over and over again.

I finally made it back. As I walked to my room, the panic started wearing off because I knew I was safe. I wasn't going to lose anything or die. I knew that within a matter of 5 minutes, I would be able to feel my ears and my fingers. I would be able to breathe normally, the adrenaline would die down, and soon, I'd be curled up reading, my body working normally.

Two minutes later, my whole body was stinging and burning. It was agony. I knew that the blood and feeling were returning, but it was pure agony. But I knew that I had brought this on myself, so I kept my mouth shut.

Then came the learning. You know, if I had listened to my mom and put on more clothes, a hat, and some gloves, I would've been fine. I would've been able to run the two miles I had planned on running. But I didn't  listen, and that's the problem. My mom knew, in this instance, what was best for me, and I didn't listen. And boy, did I pay for it.

But it made me think - how many times do we hear God say something... and then ignore it, going our own way, just because we think, "Oh, yeah, whatever. I totally know what I'm doing."

Yeah, that's what I thought - A LOT.

Two days later, I went out - four layers on top (including a sweatshirt), two layers on the bottom, gloves, hat, and scarf.

I only started to feel the cold as I got up the hill to my house.

It amazed me how much of a difference a few extra pieces of clothing made. I was actually warm. I didn't feel like I was dying. I didn't have to hold back tears because of the panic I felt when numbness started to overtake my body, and I had to fight with myself to keep going, trying to get back home before collapsing. I didn't feel panic or adrenaline. Just a little sweaty from so many clothes. And I wasn't feeling numb, because I had listened to the wisdom of my mother this time around.

In this instance, my mom reminds me a lot of God. He tells us what we should do, but we ignore Him. In the end, we end up like me - cold, tired, and scared, racing back home and the warmth we know is waiting. But if we had listened to Him in the beginning, we would have skipped the cold, the tiredness, and the fear. We would still be wrapped up securely, confident that we're prepared for whatever is ahead.

The next time you hear God telling what you should do, don't go your own way. Go His way. You'll save yourself a lot of pain and mistakes.

I'M BAAAAACK!

I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Promise. Amber can even tell you I haven't, because she saw me last night. Sitting next to her. On her couch. Staring at her tv. And if that wasn't me, then we have problems, Houston.

My goal for this year is to have Micaela's Light under contract by my 16th birthday (June 16). That's kind of scaring the heck out of me... It just seems so... BIG. Six months to finish a draft, get an agent, and sell it.

But let's just analyze the draft here... I'm still working on the third draft. Once I finish it, and by the time someone reads it, there will be changes to make. And once those changes are made, I highly doubt I'll be ready to stop there. So, that puts us up to draft 5. (Did you know that the brothers that made the Matrix movies did 14 stinking drafts of the screenplay?! I can just see that happening to me...)

And then once the draft is done.... comes the ever daunting task known as talking to agents. (Amber, that reminded me of the agents in The Matrix... um.... not good? Just say it in the voice they say agents in and you'll get what I'm talking about.) And of course, I can't run when I see an agent like you do in The Matrix. One, because they aren't the same kind of agents, and two, it's kind of how I'm supposed to get a publisher to buy my book.

At some points, it seems so easy, and at others it feels so hard. I'm trying to take it a little step at a time while looking at the big picture. Somehow, though, I think I might make it through.

Some how, somewhere, some way.

P.S. I'll get some sort of sample of writing up here. Soon. I can't decide what I want to put up here though... so be ye patient. *coughAMBERcough*

*Note* - by the way, just wanted to say that even though all blog posts say they're written by me, they're not. I don't know how to resolve it. Sorry.

I am SO excited about this new year coming up.

So many opportunities to live, learn, and love.

So many opportunities for happiness and growing.

So many new movies! *becomes giddy*

AND THE NEW ERYNN MANGUM BOOK! (Don't even get me started about how EXCITED I am about that!)

New pictures, new memories, so much new! 

And I'm looking forward to even the same old things, like getting together with my family at holidays, hanging out with my friends, and I just remembered - I get to chew gum this year because I finally get my braces off! WOOT! (That was really random too...)

Anyway, I wish you all the best in this new year in whatever you do.

See you next year! 

Audra

Hello Dearest Readers,

I've decided to post an unfinished sampling of a prose piece that I am attempting to craft. Its inspired by the opening scenes of Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment" and relates to the early life of the drunkard's biological daughter, Sonia.

Sonia

"Stupid, little wench!" Katherine Ivanovna stormed through the kitchen and delivered a cruel smack to the sunken, yellow cheek of her stepdaughter. Katherine's slender, consumptive body hovered above the shaking frame of the little girl. "Oh! You parasite! Taking food right out of my own children's mouths!" Tears smarted behind Sonia's wide, blue eyes, but she quickly retaliated against them by blinking and lowering her gaze to her ragged, too-small boots. Emotion from the victim only fueled Katherine's inconquerable fury. 

Katherine seized the child's thin upper arm and jerked her to the squalid parlor. She wildly wrenched Sonia to the floor, kicking her sharply in the stomach as she crumpled to the floorboards. A few more screams absorbed by her ears, a few more blows absorbed by her frail body, and Katherine's thirst for bruises is satiated.

When Katherine had stomped back to the small wood stove to begin preparing a meager stew, Sonia lay still amidst the dirt and ashes. The attack was over; she could begin to feel. She sat up slowly, wincing as the flesh below her right rib screamed in pain. She touched ran the red, icy fingers of her left hand over her right shoulder. There would be a bruise in the shape of Katherine's fingers; sharp and clawlike. Sonia gingerly moved her pale hand to her face. The sallow skin of her right cheek was hot and throbbing. As she stood, she gasped and clutched her side. A few tears fell from her long, black lashes and she hated herself for letting them fall.

She walked softly back into the kitchen. Katherine Ivanovna was busied chopping cabbage. One of the younger children, Dmitri, clung to her tattered brown dress. "Slice the bread," came Katherine's cold voice. Silently, Sonia obeyed.

So, its still in its most infantile stage. I'll try to post more as it develops.I hope that this inspires my dear friend Audra to post some of her own work. *HINT*

I'm adding a new section to the site. It's called Book Reviews. I know that's a little boring right now, but maybe one day I'll come up with a more creative title.

I'm doing this with Thomas Nelson's Book Review Bloggers. Many thanks to my mom for getting me started on this. If you'd like to join, you can go here - http://brb.thomasnelson.com/join

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From the back cover:

Dream house . . . or bad dream?

When the Kings move from L.A. to a secluded small town, fifteen-year-old Xander is beyond disappointed. He and his friends loved to create amateur films . . . but the tiny town of Pinedale is the last place a movie buff and future filmmaker wants to land.

But he, David, and Toria are captivated by the many rooms in the old Victorian fixer-upper they moved into--as well as the heavy woods surrounding the house.

They soon discover there's something odd about the house. Sounds come from the wrong directions. Prints of giant, bare feet appear in the dust. And when David tries to hide in the linen closet, he winds up in locker 119 at his new school.

Then the really weird stuff kicks in: they find a hidden hallway with portals leading off to far-off places--in long-ago times. Xander is starting to wonder if this kind of travel is a teen's dream come true . . . or his worst nightmare.

My review:

I've read several Thomas Nelson books before to mixed reactions on my part, so I wasn't quite sure what I would think of this one when I read it.

I'm not a big thriller/horror story reader, but this book drew me right in, literally from the moment I read the name Toria on the back cover. It's a little slow starting, as the writing is a tad cliche at times, but after Xander's first step into the house, I couldn't stop reading.

Liparulo knows how to write a suspense story. There were several times that my heart rate picked up, and that I was even scared about what was going to happen. His book is extremely well crafted, and I can't wait to get my hands on Watcher in the Woods. Even if you're not a huge fan of a thriller/suspense story, I'd suggest you buy it and at least give it a try.

But beware - this book is not for those that are easily frightened (and I'd suggest you not read it at night... it may mess with your sleeping habit ). However, if you're looking for a good read or even a good Christmas present for someone that likes a high stakes, fast paced adventure, this is it.

-Audra

To buy it go here (christianbook.com) or here (amazon.com)