Names Tip

I have always had a hard time coming up with fantasy/paranormal/sci-fi names for people in my characters. I can come up with a simple name easily, but it's when I want them to sound special that I run into trouble. I want it to sound different yet somewhat sophisticated, and pronounceable--definitely pronounceable.  


A few days ago, I found a method that has actually worked very well for me. What I do is, instead of using a common name or making one up, I use popular names from other countries.


They work well, because they're different from the American names I am used to, so they have that nice "unique" feel to them.


For example, here are a few of the most popular names for 2011 in a few other countries that sound cool:


Australia: Lachlan (,boy, 7th) 


Brazil: Giovanna (girl, 5th), Manuela (girl, 7th), Rafaela (girl, 8th), Miguel (boy, 3rd), Matheus (boy, 5th), Guilherme (boy, 7th), Felipe (boy, 10th) 


France: Inès (girl, 5th), Manon (girl, 7th), Enzo (boy, 2nd), Raphaël (boy, 6th), Yanis (boy, 8th) 


These are all I'm going to post today, just to give you a hint as to what's out there. I hope this helped you! 


~Elizabeth

My Favorite Things

Well, first off I would like to wish you all Merry Christmas!

My family is one that gets very excited about the approach of Christmas. So excited, in fact, that we make up what the days before are. A couple of years ago, my mom came up with the idea that the day before Christmas Eve must be Christmas Adam, because Adam came before Eve.

So now, instead of saying that it is four days until Christmas, we say that it's only two days until Christmas Adam (somehow that makes it feel like Christmas is closer). *Just so you know, tomorrow is Christmas Fish*. 


All jokes aside, Christmas is amazing.

Yet, what surprises me most is that the actual day of Christmas is my least favorite part of it. For me, it's the Christmas caroling and Christmas pageants, the cookie baking and time spent shopping with family, picking out and decorating a tree, going to a Christmas Eve service. . . Not all, I'll admit, but most of the things on my list tend to go along with glorifying God.

With Christmas caroling, you get to not only sing songs praising Him, but it's also an amazing opportunity to show God's love to those you sing to. With Christmas pageants, you get to re-tell the story of Christ's birth. With cookie baking, you are taking time aside to spend with your family to make cookies to give away (of course, we all know that not all of them wind up being given to someone ;) ) , time spent shopping normally involves putting others before yourself and picking out something they would like as opposed to just getting something for yourself. Picking out a tree can also be glorifying God--marveling at His creation.

Then, when you go to a Christmas Eve service, you sing classic Christmas songs like Silent Night and Away in a Manger, Come all Ye Faithful. . . You hear the pastor discuss Christ's birth--and though it is a message that a lot of people have heard to many times to count, still leaves the same effect.

Christ--God's Son--coming into this world.

Not because He had to, but because He wanted to. He wanted a way to be closer to His people--He wanted to sanctify them and make them pure.

He came because He loves us.

And, unfortunately, that isn't exactly what I think about on Christmas Day. I think about all of the things I got, I get angry about the things I didn't. I get impatient when at the family events because they are taking too long to get to the gifts.

Then, at the end of the day, I look at the mess my house has become. Wrapping paper everywhere,  gifts thrown this way and that, and I let out a sigh.

Gifts will pass away--they will break, get lost, get left somewhere, thrown out, get burnt. . . Because they weren't meant to last forever.

Yet what Christ did for us--that is something that was meant to last forever. Literally.

I would put the Christmas story on this post (Luke 1-2), but it's already getting quite lengthy. . .But I will encourage you to check it out. It's a story thousands of years in the making.


~Elizabeth

Contest

Today, I would like to inform you of a cool writing contest going on right now. Vision Forum is doing a 2012 Catalog Story Contest called Women and Children First.  

You can choose either of the following pictures:

You can do as many entries as you like--but there is a $5 fee per entry.

After you have chosen your photo, you write the story behind it. It has to be more than 100 words, although it cannot exceed 1,200.

Those under 18 are welcome to enter with parental permission. The deadline is December 31st.

For more information, click on the link above.

~Elizabeth

Writing Tip

I was working on my book the other day, and I realized something that just might change how I write for the rest oft life.

POV.

I found that, by changing the perspective, it made it a lot easier to write. In fact, I change it often within each chapter.

It makes it new and exciting. . . Not to mention the fact that it adds a LOT of length.

What makes it easier for you to continue writing?

~Elizabeth

Contest Winner!

I would've announced this on Monday, but my internet stopped working. :(

Anyway, to the announcement!

The winner is....

Aylin Brandt!! Congratulations!!!

If all of the judges could email me ( yawhowrite@gmail.com ), then I'll send you her book.

And, again, Aylin, congratulations! Writing 30,000 words in a month is something to be proud of!

~Elizabeth

Time is running out!!!

Time is running out to enter for our Operation Feedback Blogfest!!!

It ends this Monday--so get entering!! :)


~Elizabeth

Eowyn

Alright, so if you don't already know, I'm a major Lord of the Rings fan. I had to choose someone from a book to write a five paragraph essay on, so I chose Eowyn. I'm having a little trouble coming up with a conclusion, though (my 5th paragraph), so any suggestions are highly appreciated!

Underestimated

There was a girl named Eowyn who lived long, long ago in a land called Middle Earth. She was the niece of King Theoden, King of Rohan. She was beautiful beyond compare, although her eyes were forever stained; she had seen how cruel reality could be. Middle Earth was, after all, in a huge war. Sauron and Saruman, together with all the forces of Mordor and Isengard and a some others who joined their cause, against. . .well, against practically everyone else. King Theodon’s only heir had died in a battle, and now the blood heir to the throne was Eowyn’s brother. Eowyn felt so useless, as if no one trusted her—she knew her skills with the blade. She wanted to defend her people.

Eowyn remembered looking down upon her insane Uncle Theoden.  The realization hadn’t even hit him yet that his son was dead. It made her want to cry. She remembered how it used to be; Theoden had brought her and her brother, Éomer, up as if he were their own father, since both of their parents were dead.  She ran outside, for she could stand it no longer—she needed some fresh air. As she inhaled, she recalled the slow fade of character and memory that was eating away her uncle, the king. He was now advised by a fellow named Grima Wormtongue; his character as snaky as his name. But as she looked up, she saw horses with riders approach. Little did she know that she would fall desperately in love with one of them—Aragorn, son of Arathorn, rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. How could she help it? He was, after all, charming and rather handsome. . he had an air of mysteriousness that clung to him, and that made Eowyn long to know more about him. Of course, it also never occurred to her that one of them, Gandalf the White, would remove the curse that Saruman had placed on her uncle. No, they were just normal riders to her.

Soon, however, Eowyn’s life began to change. True battles were beginning to occur, and Rohan was about to be attacked by a devastating force. She pursed her lips as she thought of the past events. She remembered when Aragorn showed her his necklace that his beloved elf maiden, Arwen, had given him. Most of all, however, she remembered that terrible time when she thought Aragorn had died in a battle—short though it was, it cut her heart to pieces. Then, of course, there was what happened after he returned. Legolas, Aragorn’s friend, gave him back Arwen’s necklace. It was a stinging reminder that she did not hold his heart. But with that, she gave up all hope of a future with Aragorn. Instead, she set her mind on another matter; King Theoden, who was now in his right mind, was refusing to allow his precious niece into the fields of battle. He would only allow her to take care of the women and young children. Eowyn knew she could fight; she only needed a chance to prove it. And later on, she would.

 Sauron was about to unleash nearly all of the forces of Mordor onto Gondor, the area of which Aragorn was heir.  Rohan rushed to their aid, and Eowyn snuck her way into the forces. In that battle, she saw her uncle die. Yet, her experience there was not all bad. She turned out to be rather useful—the King of the Nazgul, who could not be killed by men, appeared on the battle field, killing many. But Eowyn was no man, and she was able to defeat it.  All of the hurt from Aragorn was washed away as her eyes beheld Faramir, son of the Steward of Gondor. Not long after the two were married, peace was restored to Middle Earth, for Sauron was dead.

~Elizabeth

Christmas

I love this time of year. A lot.

There are little signs everywhere that Christmas is approaching; stores are posting count-downs on their windows, people are starting their shopping, egg-nog and hot cocoa is appearing on the grocery store shelves. . .It's all so exciting. 

This is the spectacular time of year,  
When signs of Christmas begin to appear,
Christmas lights aglow,
Grass covered in snow. . . .

I don't know why, but I just felt like adding that in there. For some reason, rhyming helps me write poetry. It makes it easier to come up with the next line, plus it sounds cool when you say it out loud.

So, what about you? What do you like about this time of year?


~Elizabeth

Villians

Today, I am going to talk about Villains! What is a villain you ask? According to the dictionary, (dictionary.com) a villain is 1.a cruelly malicious person who is involved in or devoted to wickedness or crime; scoundrel.  2.a character in a play, novel, or the like, who constitutes an important evil agency in the plot. In a book, the villain is an instigator. I mean, would Batman have ever become Batman if the Joker wasn't terrorizing the city? Or would Eragon (from the Inheritance series) ever have become a deadly half-elf dragon rider if the king Galbatorix hadn't killed all the other riders and had a reign of terror? A good villain can make or break a book. What is a good villain? Well I think a good villain is a villain that you can almost sympathise with. One that makes you look at the good guys and wonder if they are actually wrong. One that is not just malicious but also deadly smart. If you look at some of the most well known villains like Moriarty from Sherlock Holmes, they are geniuses. One of my favorite moments with a villain is when the people involved make a choice. They are given two psychologically difficult choices and the heroes have to choose. To clarify my confusing statement, in the movie Spider-Man, Spidey has to choose between rescuing Mary Jane and saving a bunch of people from a falling billboard. In the end he saves than both, but the choice is a mad attempt buy the Green Goblin to hurt Spider-Man. Then you have the more soft villains like Dr. Doofensmirtz from Phineas and Ferb. He isn't exactly a maliciuos person. He cares about his nemesis, Perry the Platypus. He makes a more or less lovable character for the children who watch the show. In the end, no matter what kind of villain you have, you need to make him or her human. (That is if they are human) They need to have some measure of understanding by the readers. I love a villain I can almost relate to. So go and enjoy the flavors of books with good villains!

~Leslie

NaNoWriMo

Alright. . .So I spent most of the day today packing for a family vacation I'm leaving for tomorrow. I'll be on this vacation until Wednesday next week; in other words, I will try to post on my days, but don't be surprised if I miss a day or two. So, that said. . .

I'm up to 6,000 words in my NaNo book! It's so exciting. . .I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere with it. I'm using the one that I had been posting sections of, although I have changed most of it. Here's a piece of what I've written so far:

I thought of the people I had left behind. . .  my father, Jaradias, Edwin. . .so many faces. I longed to see them again, just one more time. To assure them that I loved them, to explain to them why I needed to leave. But I knew I couldn’t take back what I had done, and I knew that there would always be consequences for my actions.

And that was the part that haunted me.   


What do you think? ~Elizabeth

Blogfest: Operation Feedback

So, as you've probably seen, I've joined NaNoWriMo. Well, more than that, I've joined their Young Writer's Program. 

It's really a great system. I can put in my word count goal (30,000 words) that I hope to write in the month of November, and can update the amount of words I've written so far. Right now, I'm at 9% ( 2,700 words). 

But doing this gave me an idea.

What if there was a blogfest that went on from November 5th--December 5th, where people could gain points in various ways in a random drawing? And what if the winner not only won a picture-award, but also were able to get feedback on their novels from two well-read teenagers?

As you've probably guessed, Leslie and I will be the ones to hold this amazing blogfest, called:

Operation Feeback will be officially starting November 5th (this Saturday). 

Now, I mentioned a little bit about points above. This is a the point system being used:

For starters, you have to be a follower of this blog and comment on this post to enter. Doing these actions will give you a basic point. You could just stop there, but if you feel like earning some extra points, here are some ways to get them:

1) Put this picture on your blog linking it back to this post--not our blog, this post. 

2) Give a shout out for this Blog-Fest in a post.

3) If you're a participant in NaNoWriMo, you get a point.

But, if you do these things, you have to notify us, either by comment or email, to let us know what you've done, or else we might not find out and you won't get your point.

~Elizabeth

Halloween

Alright. . .So, all my family does for halloween is trick-or-treating, we never really get into it that much. This year, I didn't even do that--instead, I went behind my grandparent's house with a few of my cousins and made freaky noises and smashed pans with wooden spoons. Quite fun, actually. 

What about you? What do you guys do for it? 

Well. . .That's the theme for this week. Halloween.

Write about what you did, or have done. It doesn't have to be something you did this year; if you have this awesome story of something that happened a while ago, feel free to use that, too. Also--we are going to have to make a rule that no real (last) names or locations be used. 

But, remember:

We are a Christian blog. We will not post ANY stories that we feel go against our beliefs. 

~Elizabeth

What do you think?

Ok, I know. I am such a slacker!! My (feeble) excuse is that I am in high school and I have a work load like a ton of bricks. Still, I should post more often. Perhaps I am simply intimidated by the genius of Liz. Huh, maybe not... For this post, I am going to post the beginning of a story. My challenge to all y'all is to finish it. It only has to be a short story. I want to see what you think about it. Now if no one replys, then I will post my ending. Maybe I will Post that anyway... But if a bunch of you send in story endings, i will hold a vote on the best one and the winner will get to post one entry on our blog! If you are the winner, I will send you the rules about the post after you win. So, for the writers, same rules for the TOTW apply. It will last for... Lets say three weeks. Now, to the contest!!!

There is a world beyond the sun. It is inhabited by creations. Everything ever created or made up lives their life in this land. Only a few can see the creations, hovering around their creators until their stories are done and they can travel the road of the sunset. Of these, even fewer can travel the road themselves. One boy, Dylan, was the only one who could travel the sacred road, but he grew up and stopped pretending. One like Dylan is only born every 50 years and the world felt the loss of Dyan sharply, although they did not know it. The next one to be born was a girl corrupted by pride and power. She enslaved the world behind the sun for years. Back on earth, creativity had stopped. Until one dark night when the long awaited child was born...


Now its your turn!

A little more. . .

Alright. . . So, today I'm going to post a little bit more of that story I've been doing, but first. . . I'm probably going to do NaNoWriMo this year (more info on that on Monday), and this will be the book I'll attempt to write 50000 words on. So. . . I want to come up with a title. . .any suggestions?

“Curias!!!” It was all I could do to say his name, but it was all he needed to move much faster. And soon, we were at a full speed gallop.        

It seemed as if that was what we did the whole day. I felt a feeling that had never before existed to me—freedom. I felt as if I was finally unleashed from the chains of bondage that held me tight for so long.  

Free. . .and yet not free. I knew there would be people endlessly searching for me.

But I knew they would never catch me. And yet, even if they did, they couldn’t keep me contained. I was already let loose, had already tasted the fresh air. No, there was no going back.  

But I soon realized that, although I was prepared to fly away at the speed of light, my horses were incapable of such a task. They continued to get slower as the day went on, until eventually  they could take it no longer.  

“They must rest,” I mumbled, feeling tired myself.  

“For a few hours—nothing more. We cannot afford any more time than that.” 

“What?! Are you insane?”

"No," he raised his eyebrows, ". . .are you?”

“I demand at least six hours of sleep, thank you very much.” I lifted my chin as high as I could.

“Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you—we’re not in the castle anymore. There’s no such thing as six hours of sleep,” he looked down upon my limp form, “But. . .if you’d like, I could stay up and guard while you and the horses sleep.”  

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,”

I laid myself down upon the moist grass surrounding a tree in the area we had stopped at, only to hear Curias chuckle, “After all, you’re the one guarding tomorrow.”

I moaned.  

~Elizabeth

Themes

Alright. . .So the theme for this week's TOTW is Action/Adventure, and if you want to (appropriately) tie it into Halloween, that works too. We also have a late entry for last week's theme (Apples). Here it is:

 I was sitting on a chair in my apartment that first October out on my own. It still didn't feel like home, even though I had lived there for two months. I had all of my things that had decorated my room at my mom's house placed around the apartment. The two porcelain Chinamen served as bookends on the bookcase. My guitar poster graced the wall by the window. And the ancient rug that I had inherited from my great aunt lay on the wooden floor. I even used the same laundry detergent as my mom had.
     I knew that I missed my mom and Karen, my sister, but this place was supposed to be home! Nothing felt familiar. The chair creaked as I got up out of it. I walked to the window and looked out over the park. Three, old maple trees were turning crimson on the tips of the branches. I sighed. It must be apple season, I thought vaguely. Apple season. I tilted my head in thought. That was what I was missing – the feel of the smooth apple skins in my hands when peeling them, the smell of applesauce bubbling on the stove, and the sight of three or four golden apple pies cooling on the rack. I had always loved apple season. Mom, Karen, and I would gather in our large, farm-style kitchen – bushels upon bushels of granny smiths, macintosh, and galas filling all available floor space. We would spend a week peeling, slicing, cooking, and baking them. We would can apple pie filling and applesauce, bake apple pies, and dry apple slices.
     I sighed again, at the memory of those happy, autumn afternoons after school, and decided that that was what I needed to do. I needed to buy some apples. I grabbed my purse and counted the money inside. Three dollars and fifty-four cents. Most of my money I had used up to furnish my apartment. I figured I would need sixty dollars or so to by a couple bushels of apples. Sixty dollars. Not much, in the scheme of things, but in my limited budget, it could mean forgoing a couple meals. I looked around my scanty apartment and decided – I needed apples.
     I was inspired! I tore across the room and into my bedroom. Rifling through my box of old stuff, I found nothing worth sixty bucks. I strode back to the living room/dining room and surveyed it with a determined eye. And then, I saw it – the dilapidated, old lamp sitting on the end table (or, it at least looked old at that moment, in light of the apples that were to come). I snatched up the ancient relic, marched outside, and walked the three blocks to the pawn shop.
     After that, I went to the farmers' market and bought two bushels of apples. I walked contentedly back to my apartment, opened the door, and – gazing lovingly down at the two bushel baskets straining the sinews in my arms – exclaimed, “I'm home!”

-Aylin

No Apples

Alright, so I wound up deciding to make apple butter, which takes a long time to make. So. . .I haven't made it quite yet. But, I will post nonetheless! Here's another part of that story I've been posting: 

I gasped, “Curias! I remember! Behind these cloaks, there is a door. . . ,” I waited a moment as the memories came pouring into my mind all at once, “It is used for the kings and queens to get to their children if needed, but the children were not supposed to discover it. I assume there’s one on Jaradias’ and Edwin’s room as well. This leads into my father’s room, which has a staircase that leads down to the gardens. My father won’t be there, he should still be in the assembly.” 

Curias looked dumbfounded, “The horses are only a few yards away from the gardens, it would be easy,” I judged by the uncertainty on his face that this was something the guards knew nothing about, “Lead the way.”    

So, I did. We had to bend down, as the door was small. There was a very short tunnel in-between the two, but I felt around for the latch on the other door and we were soon inside.

Curias was dazed, he had never been in my father’s room before. It was indeed something to stare at. . .majestic, almost.  But there was no time to admire. Not there. Not then.

We fled down the stairs to my father’s private section of the garden, and put the key in the keyhole to get into the commoner grounds. 

Sure enough, there were two horses ready waiting for us just a few yards away.

“Act casual,” Curias whispered gently into my ear. 

Casual. And how am I supposed to know how to do that???  

We led our horses a little farther from observant eyes, although I had a sense that someone was following us, watching us.

Curias appeared to sense this, too, because he began to get on his horse. So did I. 

To avoid looking suspicious, we started out going slow.  But I had to look back. . .

There he was, eyes locked on mine. Edwin’s best friend, Kloin.  He recognized me. He knew what I was doing. 

Tell me what you think!~Elizabeth

Apples

Alright, are you ready for this week's theme?

Apples.  Yes, apples.

And speaking of apples, I need help--it turns out that the ones I bought this morning were the one type that my family doesn't like. So. . . I now have a ton of apples that no one's (except me!) going to eat. So. . . What should I do with them? Are there any good recipes you have(or interesting ideas?)???

And, if there are enough options, I will make one of the suggested things and post the results on Wednesday. Just try to keep it simple, though--remember, I am in no way whatsoever a good cook. :)

~Elizabeth

TOTW

Here are the winning stories for TOTW: 

“Uh…hello?” called Ken. He was tied to a chair with a bag over his head. “Hello?”

A deep voice answered, “Hello, Kenneth, or should I say, agent 712?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ken answered nervously.

“Don’t you? Well, let me refresh your memory. You are an international secret agent. You travel the world carrying out top secret missions for your boss. ”

“Oh…” Ken scratched his head through the bag. That’s when he realized his hands were free. He yanked off the bag and looked at his captor. His opponent was eerily skinny for a man, and was wearing high heels underneath a metal exo-skeleton. His long hair stuck out in odd places.

“So, you’ve escaped,” the mysterious stranger said carefully.

“Yes, yes I have” Ken leaped toward his opponent using all his spy skills and…hit his face on the chair.

“Apparently you do not have very good eyesight.” The voice said from behind him, “You have been talking to that chair for the past five minutes.”

Ken turned around and knocked the helmet off of the stranger’s head. He looked at his opponent and saw…

“Barbie Doll?”

“Yes, it’s me; I captured you and planned to put you in a spaceship to Mars but that won’t work thanks to your meddling spy skills!”

-William Shakespeare  



     She fingered the platinum-blond hair of the old barbie doll. It had been hacked short in third grade. One of its arms had been torn loose by Scruffy, her dog. The sundress that it wore was pale yellow, faded by the sunlight of too many backyard picnics.
     Kelly smiled sadly. So many memories – so bittersweet. Something in her yearned for those warm days filled with lemonade and friends. She wanted to reach back to the times of giggling with her sister as their Barbies dressed in ballgowns and danced with Ken. It had been so sweet, so innocent, so unlike Kelly's life now. She started up from the edge of her bed when she heard the front door bang. Jim was home, and Kelly had forgotten to start supper.
     Kelly tried to slip into the kitchen so that maybe, just maybe, he might not notice that she had been daydreaming and forgotten her duty again. She winced when she brushed her bruised shoulder against the white wall. Jim did not like it when she forgot things. She hoped he might not be too upset today.
     “There you are,” Jim's gruff voice startled her. “Where have you been, woman? You know, I work hard all day and I come home to what? No hello, no supper...”
     “I'm sorry. Sorry,” She turned to look timidly up at her husband. His eyes looked glazed from alcohol. It was a look so familiar those days.
     “Well, maybe sorry isn't good enough. 'Sorry, sorry, I'll do better.' But it never happens, woman. You never love me like you should,” He took a step toward her with a accusing finger. “Sorry doesn't cut it. For two years – two long years – I have tried to teach you how to behave. Everything I ask is so simple. Every other wife in America could do the simple things I ask.” He slapped her across the face. Kelly stumbled to the side.
     “Please, Jim, I'll -”
     “Don't whimper at me,” He roared.  
      Before she knew it, she was on the ground. Pain exploded through her. She crumbled to the linoleum floor with her eyes squeezed shut to try to bottle up the pain.
     “Maybe that will teach you,” Jim muttered as he stumbled out of the house. Kelly tried to stand. She lurched toward the phone table and cracked her arm against it. A scream escaped her trembling lips as the pain ricocheted through her bones. Kelly glanced at the front door. She hoped he wouldn't come back for awhile. Picking up the phone and balancing it on her shoulder with her ear pressed to the receiver, she dialed seven numbers. Seven numbers she had wanted to press for two years.
     “Mom? Could you... could you please come and take me to the hospital? I think I broke my arm. Maybe you could bring over a box for some of my stuff. I don't think I'll be coming back any time soon. Please hurry.” Kelly hung up the phone and sank to the floor, clutching her bad arm.


     Kelly lay recuperating in the bedroom of her childhood. Pink ponies danced across the wallpaper. Her mom had let her pick out the pattern when Kelly was seven. She had loved pink then. Come to think of it, she realized she still did. She looked down at the cast on her arm. It wasn't signed by anyone. All her friends she had left behind to have Jim. He hadn't allowed much time for friendships. She sighed heavily.
     Something in a box by the bed caught Kelly's eye. She got up from the bed, bent down, and picked it up. A smile flitted across her face. It was the barbie doll with platinum-blond hair. The doll with a broken arm, yet it smiled bravely all the same. Kelly sat down on the bed and held the Barbie for a long time. Then slowly, with a brave smile, she picked up the phone on the nightstand to call up her best friend.

-Aylin   

 

Pay it Forward!!!

Hello! We're in the Pay it Forward Blog Fest!

Basically, our blog is on a list of blogs that are participating in it, and I have to put down three blogs that I think are amazing.

So. . .First off, Wayne Thomas Batson, Enter the Door Within! 

Secondly. . . An awesome devotional blog, Forever His Servant.      

And, last but not least . . .  Pen in my Hand!

 These blogs are great, check them out!!!!

*Due to this, the winning TOTW story will be posted tomorrow* 

~Elizabeth

Reflections

How I miss the days not too far back,
The ones that make me smile and laugh,
Of all of these memories, I cannot keep track,
Without my faithful KODAK  

Ok, so it doesn't technically rhyme. . .Oh well.     

I love pictures. . .if you haven't already guessed. :)

~Elizabeth

Acting

What I'm going to write about today is yet another one of my passions: Acting.

I absolutely love doing it, and I feel like when I combine myself with the character, there's this harmony that never before existed. I LOVE that feeling.

Acting is a chance to act like someone else, feel like someone else. To BE someone else. Being up on stage. . .It feels amazing. As if I'm living a dream. As if the knights, beasts, and maidens from my dreams have become reality. What about you? How do you feel on stage? Excited? Terrified? All of the above?

~Elizabeth

Kindle

Alright, so this is for those of you who don't think the kindle is better the nook/sony ereader. . .you get it.

Maybe for a while, those ereaders were better. But no more.

Behold, the Kindle Fire!!!!!!!!   

This thing is officially amazing. Seriously. ~Elizabeth

Barbie Dolls

Because of the TOTW, I am blogging about Barbies. Well, not exactly. Like I said in the TOTW, am I the only 16 year old who plays with Barbies? Really? Maybe its not so much the fact that they are dolls as they are now a sign of "being a little girl". It seems ironic that the styles of Barbies seem to be aimed at teens. Aren't all the girls super skinny with stylish clothes? I dont think I have ever seen a Barbie being bought by a teen. Why are we too grown up for this? Maybe I still play with Barbies because I am not trying to grow up quickly. Maybe its because I still love to give my imagination a good work out everyday. I mean, I dont play with Barbies everyday, but I do pretend all the time. That is where a lot of my story ideas come from. I put myself in a situation and just imagine. I know I am an oddity. Most teens are occupied with the real world like boyfriends or school or sports or things like that. It might also be that I am homeschooled and am not really into boyfriends or sports. I do my school and then I have all the time in the world to imagine. So, I think that we are losing our imagination as teens. Now I am not saying that we need to push the real world out, but we all can use a good dose of pretending now and then. What do you think? I would love to talk about this with you in the comments. 
~Leslie

Courageous

Ok. . .So I saw the movie on opening night, and the theatre was full!!! How amazing is that?!

It's seriously an amazing movie, probably the best one by them yet. It makes you cry in some places, yet laughing in others.

Sherwood Pictures seems to get more and more professional by the movie--the acting in this one was twice as good as in all the other movies. It is SERIOUSLY worth checking out!!!!!!~Elizabeth

TOTW

Sorry! I was (and still am) sick, so I forgot to post this yesterday:



      She tried not to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He had not shouted yet, had not raised his gravelly voice a decibel, though it was as menacing as a lion's roar. The words were coated in poison. She knew it. And she knew that she must either give in or be crushed yet again.
     “It is all we ask, girl. This country is so big – has so many opportunities for a beautiful girl like you, yet you choose to rot away in prison. We do not want this. You must want this, though, for we have given you chance after chance to leave. We tire of asking, of giving the same offer that is denied time and time again,” He paused to let it sink in. “So I offer you one more time. Denounce this Jesus, and we promise to let you go. If not – you die.” Until now, she had stared straight ahead at the steel-gray buttons on the man's uniform. Now she raised them to look squarely into the man's icy, blue eyes. She willed her voice not to shake.
     “I will never deny my Savior. Do to me what you will, I will always love Jesus.”
     “Well, if you want to die – it's your choice,” He said.
     “I gladly die for the glory of the One Who died for my eternal life.” The man turned, and barked something to a guard at the cell door, who let the man out and slammed the door behind him.
     The girl sank to the dirt of her cell. She repeated the words of a Psalm she remembered the old minister having said. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...” She knelt quietly moving her lips in prayer for an hour.
     The sudden noise of the door to her cell being opened caused her to stir. A guard entered and grabbed her roughly by her arm. He jerked her out of her cell, down a long, dim corridor, and out into the dark night. A line of prisoners stood in front of a pit. Soldiers who had rifles pointed at them stood beyond it. Some of the prisoners wept openly. They screamed for mercy. Others stood in stoic silence without a trace of fear in their eyes. The girl took her place beside a young child who looked up at her and smiled. His eyes shone with peace. A peace that she hoped she mirrored as perfectly.
     The captain gave the signal and the rifles' report echoed through the dusty hills. The girl felt a piercing pain as she collapsed into the pit. The next thing she knew were the arms of Jesus.

-Aylin

Progymnasmata

Today, I have my first exercise in Greek Rhetoric. I had a choice between a ecomium, a composition to praise an individual, and a vituperation, a composition to condemn an individual. I chose to do a vituperation on a church history figure, Paul of Samosata. So, here it goes!
Paul of Samosata was one of the most corrupt men in the history of the christian church. He not only was corrupt in his heart, but he lead many others to be corrupt in Christ.
I do believe that Paul of Samosata is deserving of condemnation.

Paul of Samosata was not raised in a proper way, that is, he was not given a job or a apprenticeship from his family. He was of humble birth and this gave him the thirst for wealth that gave rise to the evil that he spread. He was not given a skill to work honestly at, so he fell to perverting the church where he was working.

Of his education, we know very little, except that he was of humble birth and so probably didn't receive a good education. He also learned nothing of any form of handiwork or common labor.

As to his works, his  churches were filled with heresy. He instructed the women to sing hymns only to himself. He stopped all production of hymns except for the ones about himself. He also took bribes for help for the injured and those who were being perused by tax collectors and then turned on them and insisted they give him more money. As the final blow, he allowed himself and his church leaders "spiritual brides", women that lived with him and traveled with him. They were not married to him.

Compared to Simon Magus, Paul seems to be even more of a threat to the people. For even though Simon tried to buy the powers of Christ from Peter, he at least believed in the sovereignty of Jesus. Paul didn't even believe that Jesus was divine. He constantly lived in the most extreme sin. His teachings spread to many people and corrupted many church leaders.

I pray that none of you will follow the example of this charlatan. His work has already corrupted many. Do not follow in his footsteps and teach falsely, take bribes or exploit the poor. Hold yourself to a higher standard than this man of God corrupted.

Please give me any input on this. Thanks!

Leslie

Book Trailer

I found something interesting from Spencer Hill Press. Apparently, they're making a book trailer for one of their books and are looking for people to be in it. I'm not particularly interested, but I thought some of you may be. 

To view the post on it on Emily White's blog, click here.

To view the post on it on Kate Kaynak's blog (Emily's editor), click here. 

This really is a great opportunity, definitely worth looking into.~Elizabeth

Progymnasmata

This week I am starting a special kind of post for the school season. A classical Greek exercise in rhetoric. For one of my classes in school, I get to write these exercises in rhetoric. I decided that I will now post these exercises for all of you to enjoy. The first one should be this Thursday. On another topic, this weekend I made about 120 chocolate chip cookies. All of them perfect! Ha!! Anyone else LOVE to cook?

Random Post

Sorry, I forgot to update the theme for last week. The theme for this week is Courageous, in honor of the new movie (it's out this Friday!!!!).

The Awards page is officially up, so we are now accepting nominations.  Nominate away!!!

There's already two blogs that have accepted our award offer:

http://hannahproject195.blogspot.com/ 

This is a blog that really inspires me: 

Hannah, the blogger, doesn't just sponsor one child through Compassion. No, she sponsors/corresponds with TEN. And she's only sixteen.


http://dragontargeseries.blogspot.com/ 

Dianne Gardner is an aspiring, un-published author. I actually had the privilege of reading/offering feedback on her book (which is amazing, by the way), and she's really an amazing author. 

These are seriously some blogs you should check out!!!~Elizabeth

Meaningful Cookies

First of. . .AM I THE ONLY ONE AMONG YOU WHO CAN'T COOK???? 

Yesterday I had to make some cookies to bring to a class I'm going to, and I had everything right. Just right. Nothing was going wrong. I would actually have made a decent dish. Until I pulled them out of the oven. . . :

There's always got to be something wrong with my cooking. Always. Is there anyone else who suffers from this?? Anyone???

Well, to move onto the other subject. . .

I want to discuss something with you that has engulfed a decent amount of my time in the past few months:

Inner Meanings.

Does this book have a meaning? Is my theory correct, or is there no intended agenda in the book whatsoever? Did this person let their beliefs influence this book? Is this book modled by the author themself?

See??? These are just some of my questions--and they're only the ones I have for books! So today, I'm going to discuss a few books that I think have an inner meaning:

The Hunger Games Series: The inner meaning in this is simple--the most unlikely people can make a huge change, and that war truly effects, not only children, but everyone.

The Inheritance Series: Once again--someone who grew up with a very humble life became something amazing, living a life he had never dreamed of. I can tell that CP tries to push animal values, as all of the elves are vegeterian (which tends to get slightly  annoying after a bit), and the main character is scared to death of killing people, which is ironic, since he should be a fearless dragon rider. 

Elemental: Everything happens for a purpose.  

I could go on about this one forever. . .What about you? Are there any books you have read that made you think this?~Elizabeth

Part 2

Ok. . .so here's a little more of that story I posted earlier. . . :

I closed my eyes in stress; he wasn’t supposed to be involved in this, no one was. But how could I ignore his plea? He was right, my father would be furious, and would probably kill anyone who had anything to do with my escape, my “murder”. 

That sparked something in my head, “What if I leave a letter on my bed, saying that I decided to poison myself? Then they wouldn’t go looking for me.”

“It wouldn’t work. Your father—with all due respect—can be a very stubborn man at times. And why wouldn’t he be with this situation? Would any parent simply read the letter and go, ‘Oh, I guess she died. That’s too bad. . .’? Of course not!!! He would still search vigorously for you, because he loves you. Even if for some reason he doesn’t, Jaradias would.”

My heart stopped at the mention of my beloved brother. . .he had cared for me since birth, ever protecting me.

Curias continued, “Jaradias is very protective over you, he would never stop searching. There’s also your other brother, Edwin. He would care, too--”

“You forgot Stephen. . .”

Curias’ face went ashen gray, “Stephen left us long ago. Who knows where he is now.”

Curias and Stephen had been good friends—best friends, in fact. But he got as sick of palace life as I did.

He continued on, “As I have been trying to say, your family—and friends—would never stop searching if you did that. But. . .If you were to write one saying that you ran away, the situation may turn in your favor.  Or you could just leave with no note whatsoever. . .that would be the wisest option.”

“Perhaps,”

“To which one?”

“I shall leave them no hint as to what happened. I would rather have my father think that some evil person—you—kidnapped me than have him think I’m un-happy with my life,” I inhaled deeply, “We should start gathering supplies.”

“I shall be the one to collect things, you would look much more suspicious than I would.” With that, Curias left on his mission.

He had better not turn me in.   

I began to feel bad for assuming the worst out of him as he returned with two sacks filled with supplies.

“You take this one, it’s lighter,” Curias nearly shoved it into her face in a hurry, “We need to get out of here.”

I swung it around my back.

His face turned to stone as footsteps approached, “Fast.” 

~Elizabeth

Awards

Alright, then! So. . .We will be starting something new at RWR. If we find a blog we like, and we have an award designed that is suitable for it, then we will offer them an award. I have taken the pictures for these blogs, and did a TON of editing on them. Here are what a few of them will look like:

 



You can nominate your blog for an award if you'd like, or any other blog you find interesting. We won't be starting giving them away quite yet, I want to get a few more awards made before we make this official. I'll be adding a page with information on entering, and what to do if you win one. When the page is up, you'll know the award system has begun!~Elizabeth 

The Hunger Games

Quote: “Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games”
Summery: Katniss is just a normal, sixteen year old girl. Well, sort of.
She happens to live in the 12th district of an area called Panem that used to be known as North America. Oh yeah, she also has to hunt illegally to feed her family after her father died and her mom went crazy.It's either that or let them starve. Not average to our standards, but if you were to compare her to everyone else in Panem, she's just another girl trying to survive. 

Then one day, everything changed for her. Her sister, twelve-year-old-Prim, had her name drawn to be District 12's female tribute for The Hunger Games, the Capitol's way of making sure people are aware that they are in control. No exceptions.

Basically, everyone between the ages of twelve and eighteen has to have their name entered in for The Hunger Games, and there are two chosen from each district--one male, one female. Except, of course, if you want to enter your name more than once. Each extra entry gives a year's supply of grain and oil for one person. Katniss' was entered over twenty times that year. 

Katniss knew what they were like; everyone in Panem was forced to watch the televised Hunger Games each year.

There was no way she would let her little sister go through that.

So, Katniss pushed Prim aside and took her place. Then. . .The male tribute was chosen.

Peeta. The boy with the bread.

Peeta had given her family two loaves of bread a long time ago--that bread gave them enough nourishment to survive. She owed her life to him, and now she was going to have to be in an arena where she was expected to kill Peeta. Katniss began to think about the games as she rode to the capitol in a train ten times nicer than her own house, I'm about to die. I am. But I must stand strong, for Prim. For Gale. She pushed all thoughts of Gale outside of her head; he was a friend that she had hunted with for a few years, nothing more. I'm so puny and weak, how am I supposed to kill twenty-three youth I don't even know?? Could I come to the point where I turn into such a beast that I do kill people??? 

Katniss thought about it. The capitol does The Hunger Games each year to show the districts that the capitol has power over them. That they can do nothing against them when they steal two of their young ones to place in an arena where you must live off the land for a few weeks. And kill, let's not forget about that. See, only the last person standing in the arena can actually go home. Everyone else either gets killed or dies of "natural" causes.

As soon as she arrives, she gets bombarded by stylists making her look inhuman for the televised showing of all of the contestants. She is told to always stay right next to Peeta--to appear as his best friend. His girlfriend. 

Without Katniss' input, it appears that their way of getting sponsors for this is by acting completely in love.

"Think about it," Says Haymitch, their mentor, "It's a tragic love story. Only one of you can win. Trust me, sweetheart."  

But little does Katniss know, Peeta really is in love with her. And they've just been thrown into the arena.

Violence/Romance: Ok, so obviously this book has a decent amount of violence in it. For some readers, it may be a little more than they would care for. I personally like it, but it depends on the reader. As far as romance. . .Many kissing scenes do occur between Peeta and Katniss, although they aren't described in great detail. Katniss has to act in love with him, although she finds it becoming more and more real the further they go. Peeta, on the other hand, is extremely in love with her, and has been since they were five.

Spirituality: There's really no religion/spirituality in it whatsoever.  

What I liked: First off--this book is AMAZING!!!!! Probably the best I've ever read. The character development is awesome, and the way it's written is so good, I literally coundn't stop reading. It's not predictable, either; there are many things that you would never think would take place. 

Katniss is very protective over her sister, and it's nice seeing the affection that's there. In general, Katniss is a very affectionate person, you can really see that she's has a loving bond with the characters--therefore you  have a loving bond with them. Peeta is a great character, and again, generally cares about Katniss' welfare. I liked how the book showed that the people (some of them, anyway) didn't like killing, and wanted to remain. . .well. . .human. 

What I didn't like: I didn't like how Katniss seemed to be a little immodest at times--she is recorded as--not in any detail whatsoever--being completely stripped when the stylists design her outfit, and stripped down to but her undergarments to bathe one day--even though she knew that she was being seen by all Panem. There are a few h--l's thrown in there, but other than that, no swearing.  

Rating: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This book is really good, you should check it out!~Elizabeth

Theme of the Week

Here is the Theme of the Week winner written by Aylin

l' Rufus died today. You don't know how much I loved that dog. I had him for twenty-three years. I don't know how old he was when I got him. He was a mess of trouble back then, I'll tell ya, and he still would be if Death hadn't called Ol' Rufus' name. I remember how we met, all those years ago. Do you mind if I tell you?


I had walked into that little diner on the corner of Main and 5th Street – you know the one. It's old and run down now, but back then it was a shiny, brand-new place. It had pink walls inside and a black and white checkerboard floor. There was a big, old clock behind the counter with neon numbers. But that's all beside the point. Forgive me for reminiscing - I don't want to bore you too much.

Anyways, I walked in there that Saturday morning for a cup of black coffee and a fried egg. The door jangled and little Tammy Sue looked up and smiled at me from behind the counter. She was always there early on Saturday mornings. I sidled up to the counter and ordered my food. While I was waiting for Tammy Sue to fry my eggs, I whistled along to a tune playing on the jukebox.

Pretty soon, my food was done cooking, and I began to eat it. The door jingled and an old man and woman walked in. They sat down in a booth in the corner and Tammy Sue got their order. I hadn't but hardly finished my coffee when the door burst open again – the bell just a-clanging and rattling up a storm. I spun around on my stool to see a ugly, yellow mutt bounding through the door and tearing off for the kitchen. He ripped right past Tammy Sue and the cook who had just come in a moment before. The cook, I forgot her name, let out a holler like you wouldn't believe. Her pan full of oatmeal went flying through the air like a flying saucer, landed on the linoleum, and spun around and around until it finally settled on a black square on the floor. The oatmeal, on the other hand, had long since left the pan and dripped from the clock on the wall.

The dog didn't stop, even with the cook screaming at him. He kept running right through the kitchen, then back around toward Tammy Sue. He upset three cups of coffee and a muffin as he jostled around the counter. Then he landed right next to me. He just sat down and looked up at me with doleful eyes and cocked his head to one side.

“Is that foul beast your, Jim?” The cook screeched, her voice rising even higher than before. “Cause, I am gonna knock his brains out – just look at what he did to the diner!” I did look around then. The elderly couple had somehow climbed up on top of their seats, which was quite a feat for their age. The curtain on the bottom half of the door was torn from the brass rod. The pan had dinged up the floor and I noticed that the oatmeal had dripped mostly into a coffeepot. I looked at the cook. Her face was beet red and it was like steam was coming out of her ears. And then I looked down at the dog that was panting at my feet. Just a miserable, no-good critter like you've never seen.

“Yeah, he's mine,” I said quietly. “He's mine.” The cook screeched again and she came a-tearing at the dog and me. Well, I jumped up off of my stool and hightailed it out to my truck. I jumped in and the dog leaped in after me.

And, well that was that. That old dog stayed with me forever after that. I don't know whose he was originally, but apparently nobody wanted him, cause no one put an ad in the paper for him or nothing. I think he kinda always was my dog. It just took us a while to find each other – you know what I mean?

New Project

Alright, so this is a story that I started today. I decided that I'll keep posting more pieces of this every Thursday, for as long as it takes me to finish. Let me know what you think!!!!:

Jade stared into the eyes of her guardians as they dared her to be defiant.  Her soft, misty blue eyes were shaken and lit with fear—very much unlike the sharp, stilling grey shade of those who looked after her. She couldn’t take it—being a princess, being bound to a life of dresses and jewelry. She didn’t want to rule—no, she would leave it all behind in an instant to be free. Free.

She wanted nothing less than to run away, to get on a horse and leave forever. Then she could run to the elves for refuge. The only question was, how???

She pondered this for a moment.

Her father was holding an assembly with all of the residents of Rempavt that afternoon. . .nearly all of the guards would be there as opposed to “babysitting” her. . .It could work.  

Deliberately, she began to plan her escape. 

She glared up again at the guards—if only they knew what she was thinking. Jade twisted a smirk onto her face.   

“What are you up to?” One of the guards blatantly asked at her.  

“What could I be up to? Can I not simply admire the armory?” she replied as they walked through the rows of shields and swords.

She stopped, pretending to look interested in some of the swords, “I’m fine here. Let me browse for a moment—then I’ll go into my room to select a better gown for tonight.”

Her glaring eyes made the guards realize that if Jade’s brothers died in battle, she would become ruler. Would they try to get on her good side, or stick to their duty?

“Alright, highness, just remember that you have a dinner to attend tonight,” said one of the younger guards, Curias.  She looked tenderly at him and smiled, thanking him for understanding her need—the need to be alone.

Or maybe not. . . “I’ll stay with her; she may need guidance as far as selecting a sword is concerned.”

The other guards nodded, it seemed they didn’t like the idea of me being left alone.

“Couldn’t you leave me be? Must I always have someone watching me?” Hissed Jade as the other guards passed out of earshot.

“Highness, with all due respect, I don’t trust you. I know what you think. . .I see it in your eyes. They light up with fire whenever even one of us walks away.”

She glared at Curias, “Didn’t you say you would help me select a sword?”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

 So look they did. But something peculiar happened—Curias and Jade reached for the same sword at the same time, and their hands touched. They both looked up, and for a few seconds, they had their gaze locked into opposite’s eyes. Jade’s widened at the spur of the moment, but soon they both let go of the sword, and there was a moment of awkward silence.

“My sword is good enough, I need not a new one.” Jade gulped. 

“Let’s talk about your plans of escape somewhere more private.” Curias whispered. . .so he did know after all.

“Let’s go to my room, and I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

So they went in and discussed it. For some reason, Jade trusted Curias—he even offered valuable advice about the best ways to leave. 

But then Curias said something that Jade did not expect, “Look, highness--“

“Jade. My name is Jade.”

“Alright, Jade. Well. . .there’s one issue with your plan. I was the last one with you, therefore I would be accused of hiding you, encouraging you to leave, or possibly even murdering you. I could be executed.

“I obviously don’t want that, so. . .Can I come with you? I would be able to protect you, and I know the ways to the elves well. I don’t want to die, Jade. Please don’t let me die.”

School

In honor of the school year beginning anew, I thought that I would blog about school. Specifically school supplies. Am I the only one that gets a rush of excitement when you open a new notebook or get a new set of pens? Maybe its the possibilities of the contents or the novelty of something new. IT may sound corny, but I feel my creativity flow from my brain into the paper. I have come up with some of my best ideas for stories by opening a blank notebook. At the end of the year, my books are all full of notes, essays, stories and other things. I can look back and see all these interesting and boring facts. Still, there is nothing like new supplies. My little sister agrees with me too. We both like new supplies. What about you? What do you think about school supplies? For some silly fun, I think I am going to post a poll asking what school supplies you like best!

Summer Pictures

What, Summer's almost over?!?! I don't believe it. . .

Well, I've never posted any of my photography on here before, so I want to change that. Here are a few of my favorite Summer pics:

*I request  that these images not be used without permission* ~Elizabeth

TOTW

Here is the winner for this week's TOTW:


A Life
People make mistakes that hurt life
Some ruin their own chances at
Life. They use drugs or mind-numbing alcohol or
They commit suicide. They
Ruin their chance for a beautiful, fulfilling
Existence
That God gave them to live
Out to an amazing fullness in Him.
Other people commit homicide
They ruin other people’s chances at
Life
They may ruin a child’s life or
An adult’s life or even an innocent, unborn baby’s life.
That is terrible, gut wrenching
Sad
The person may get caught when they
Murder, but often
They get away with it. That is
Sadder
No one seems to mind when
A baby - a beautiful, perfect
Gem of life-
Dies because no one wants
To take the responsibility of a little life.
They need to know that they are still
Responsible,
They are responsible for a child’s
Death.
I would rather be responsible for a
Life than a death.
Don’t ruin your life,
More importantly
Don’t ruin someone else’s life
Someone no one will
Fight for
And who can’t fight for themselves. 

-Aylin Brandt