Japanese Haiku Writing

So the title doesn't really capture the essence of what I'm going to show you guys...I really couldn't think of better words to describe it, so anyway.

So midterms were last week (I aced and Beed all of them, FYI), and my English teacher said for extra credit, since we were reading some Japanese literature last class, that we could structure a paragraph off of a haiku that we found and liked. Meaning that we would start the paragraph or story off of the three lines, then continue making a story out of it. Haikus are very short and sweet, simple pieces of writing, but that is the beauty of them, I think. That something so beautiful about nature or anything you like can be captured in as little as three lines. It's not easy to capture the essence of something in that little space, but when one does, it's beautiful.

I recently wrote my extra-credit paragraph, and I must say, I am very pleased with how it turned out. I think I'm going to make more because I enjoyed it so much. Yes, I think I will.

Here's what I have so far:


A field of cotton--
as if the moon
had flowered
~Matsuo Basho

A field of cotton--as if the moon had flowered, was spread before me, vast and emitting angelic white light from the rays of the sun, as if it were the surface of the moon.
I put my bare toes underneath the down surface, and what I felt was not cotton; it was air. Soft, fluid air. This air was like the sea moving with the summer breeze, swaying like a ball dance in a grand castle--the Castle of the Sky.
The Castle of the Sky was mysterious to many, but not myself. Much of my time was spent in the Castle, caring for it, nurturing its inhabitants, making it my own, since no one else did. Gallivanting through the Castle was my favorite pastime. No one ever lost their patience with me, for no one ruled this particular castle. It is a free land.
Yes, a free land with full green-leaved trees, bursting with luscious fruits and plentiful with beautiful sanguine blossoms. The fields were of many, endless and open with opportunity for fresh, new growth.
As I step into this balldance, these moon flowers, I make a dance of my very own, underneath the Castle of the Sky.


So, what do you think? What I was thinking is that I would make four season paragraphs out of this guy's haikus. I really like them and think they are wonderful, so I would find one for each season and write a paragraph on it. I've started autumn, but it is yet to be finished. The paragraph above would be the summer paragraph.

Happy writing, and I hope your new year is going well so far! I don't know about you, but I'm enjoying ever spare minute of free time I get! :)

My 500 words: A Writing Challenge

So...NaNoWriMo went awesome! Admittedly not at first, because I was actually at a loss for a good idea and any sensible words, but things turns out alright. I actually switched my story three days in, because I didn't see the storyline I had chosen going anywhere without more thought and work than just thirty days. I was really behind progress for the first two weeks because I spontaneously thought of this really random idea and it took me a while to think of where it out to go, plot and detail-wise. I was almost always at the least three thousand words behind for those two weeks, but on that 15th day, all I did was write, for eight straight hours. I still wasn't completely caught up, but I was off to a good start. For the next week I struggled to stay on task with the word count, but when Thanksgiving break came, I actually was really ahead of the word count. The thing is, I still haven't ended the book yet because it's a really hard story to end (because it's a sad book and a lot happened), but I did reach almost 51,000 words at the end of November. I guess I should tell you what the book it about, huh? So, I'm going to give you the non-formal, whole-book synopsis because I don't really have a good one yet that makes sense. Because, like I said, a lot happens and I'm not sure I can sum up the basics but still leave a lot to the reader. There are five best friends: Gemma, Alyssa, Mandy, Timothy, and Will (the story is told in the first-person POV of Gemma). They go on a trip to Paris in the winter break of their senior year, a trip that they've been planning since they were freshmen. The book is laid out so there is one chapter in the present, then one chapter in the past, alternating turns. The whole Paris trip is not in the book, more like little scenes from the trip over the course of the book, as past chapters. The past chapters aren't just from Paris, they're from freshmen, sophomore, junior, and senior years, and over the summer. The book starts out with a prologue where Gemma is describing falling into the ocean and watching a plane explode above her. She is in extreme pain and lands in the below-freezing water of the Atlantic ocean. As she does so in a state of near-unconsciousness, she contemplates many aspects of fate and life, especially the fear of her imminent death. The actual first chapter begins with Gemma waking up in a rescue helicopter. She is listening to her one surviving friend (and kind-of boyfriend) tell her that their friends are dead, that the helicopter could find them. She can't open her eyes and is still in a daze, but she thinks she is dreaming. But she wants to tell Will that she loves him. Eventually when they go back to their hometown (Adena, Ohio) from Belfast, Maine, they look in their friends' rooms to find keepsakes and to silently say goodbye. Mandy was a writer, and in her room they find a book that she had not yet told them of, and a set of suspicious and mysterious letters to an unknown identity. They pass it of as props for one of Timothy's plays (he is a playwright), and take the book. Gemma reads the book over the course of the story and is infinitely confused by it. Her and Will comfort each other and are there for each other, but at the funeral Will tells her that he and Alyssa dated secretly for half a year in their sophomore year. This greatly upsets Gemma and they get in a fight. They make up eventually, but from then on things aren't quite the same. Over the course of the book they also get updates on the plane crash from the news and they find out that the plane didn't crash because of the reason they thought; instead, someone had corrupted the gas tank. They don't know what to make of this. Gemma hears Will talking to someone about the plane crash (she doesn't hear much, but enough to be suspicious), but when she confronts him about it, he lies to her and says he was talking to someone from school. She persists that he is lying, but he insists that he is not. She lets it go but soon she hears him talking to the same person, but this time he says the name of the news broadcaster, who desperately needs to keep her job. Will was giving her anonymous tips so she could have something to broadcast. They get into a heated fight and Will tries to apologize for lying, which is Gemma's greatest pet-peeve. She grew up with parents who never paid any attention to her, who always lied about what they were going to do; so it's more than a pet-peeve. Gemma doesn't listen and is still angry at Will for his lying, because it wasn't the first time he had lied to her. He apologizes for being a coward and tries to run home, but it is snowing (he's wearing a white T-shirt, mind you) really hard outside, and he gets hit by a car that was driving to fast and didn't see him crossing the street. Will dies hours later of internal injuries and head trauma, leaving Gemma heartbroken and regretful. As it turns out, her friend Mandy was recruited by the CIA in their freshman year, and there was a terrorist on board their flight back to Ohio. Mandy corrupted the plane's gas tank and sacrificed many lives so the government would be able to keep this dangerous French terrorist from entering the United States. To get her mind off of all that has happened, she gets a job at her local diner that her and her friends used to go to all the time in the summer. She meets an older college guy, Aiden, who goes to Penn State, like she was planning to. Over the summer, she discovers that she wants to sing on Broadway and live in New York (she's a singer-you find that out earlier in the book). The book is going to end with an epilogue, but I'm still not sure what the last words will be. Last words are always the hardest. Obviously, I left some major details out, but that's the gist. If you have any general ideas about how to end it (which I know is hard to ask for with the meager details I gave you) than just post it in the comments below! I will be eternally grateful. Please keep in your knowledge that this story is copyrighted. I can't even imagine having my ideas stolen (it's kind of my second writing worst nightmare), so I just want to ensure that it doesn't happen. Thanks! So this 500 words thing is something I signed up for this January. You basically write 500 words every day of January. It's supposed to help you become an amazing writer and stuff. And a more confident writer, which is going to help me, because my writing confidence level is in the depths right now. I'm considering making a fan page for my writing once I self-publish my first book: The Ignorance of Me, Daphne Willowston. I'm still working on ending and editing it, but it's coming soon! Yay! Happy New Year! :)

BOOK REVIEW--"Carrie" by the legendary Stephen King! **SPOILER ALERT**

I wasn't about to leave you guys just yet. I read a very scary, very spectacularly spectacular book called Carrie recently by Stephen King. In fact, it was his first book EVAH! And it was seriously so amazing, like I can't even explain. You will just have to read it. Since I live in Maine now and Stephen King lives in Maine, I'm reading many of his books now. I'm about halfway through The Shining and a little bit of The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, and Under the Dome is currently sitting on my floor waiting to be read, along with many more of his books in my bookshelf that I got at a used book sale (don't you just love those??). Anyway, Carrie was terrifying, mesmerizing, fascinating, and incredibly addicting in its goriness and mystery. 16-year-old Carietta "Carrie" White is a deranged girl with an incredibly religious mother. She is made fun of constantly at school and her mother and her are the talk of the town, at least behind their backs. Inexplicable incidents have occurred in Carrie's past, like stones falling on her house out of nowhere. The story begins with Carrie being taunted because she got her first period in the girls' locker room and she simply stands there, thinking she is bleeding to death. Her mother never provided her with the knowledge of these things that happen when you grow up, so she is terrified that she's bleeding to death. Girls throw pads and tampons at her until the gym teacher, Mrs. Disjardin, comes in and saves Carrie from further humiliation. The ruthless bully Chris Hargensen is given a hands-on pep talk by the Disjardin and says to Carrie, "This isn't over." Another girl, Sue Snell, feels incredibly guilty about going along with the other girls and not standing up for Carrie. In the span of about three chapters, multiple incidents happen: a lightbulb blows over their heads and a book is knocked off a shelf in the principal's office. Carrie thinks about this and her telekinetic powers are soon confirmed when she practices every night. Her mom claims it is the devil's gift, that Carrie holds some of the devil's power herself. Sue Snell, who felt bad about the incident in the locker room, convinces her boyfriend, Tommy Ross, to take Carrie to prom as a way to finally get Carrie out of her shell and talk to some people-Sue's way of making sure she redeems her mistakes against Carrie. But at the same time, Chris Hargensen and her boyfriend are planning a horrific prank to be played on Carrie-a bucket of pig's blood will be dumped on her when she goes up to be crowned as prom queen (rigged by Chris). When they finally go to prom and Carrie and Tommy get crowned, the pig's blood is dumped, and let's just say Carrie COMPLETELY loses it. She kills most of her town, including her high school class. Just by looking at someone she can crush every bone in their body, and just by looking she can start fires. It was one of the most intriguing books I've ever read but is definitely scary. But I couldn't put it down. I was reading at eleven at night, and during health class the next day. I highly recommend this book!

Oh, and like the picture says, a new film adaptation has been made. It actually came out today and I really want to see it but I need to find an adult that would actually want to see it with me, since I'm not old enough to get in the theater by myself (rated R). The movie has Julienne Moore in it, and Chloe Grace Moretz. I love her! She seems perfect for the role of Carrie. Happy book-reading and movie=watching! <3 :D

Emma vK: On Writer's Block and Non-Stereotypical Ways of "Bumping into Each Other"

Regrettably, I'm not friends with many writers (and writers that I do know I follow on Twitter, and that's like, two), so I can't relate to writer problems with. I can only rant on Twitter and Facebook and hope that MAYBE because will partially understand. I mean, we all get the concept of writer's block, right? I often wonder who came up with the ingenious name "writer's block." Because you literally feel like you can't write, like there is something on your hands holding you down. And sometimes you have the strength to lift the block up and you manage to squeeze a few words out, but they're all jumbled and don't even make sense. Then you are simply back at the point where writing seems like running a marathon. Even if you are a runner, like me, it sounds completely exhausting. You just can't seem to form logical thought, and if you try to keep writing it comes out as "asdfjklqwweiritasdgkjgklfsaliwrifgjsdl." Getting over writer's block is a long process that involves listening to your favorite music, reading a book by a favorite author, chocolate milk and a baked potato and a few clementines, and staring at the ceiling for quite some time. At least, that's how I get over writer's block. It's probably completely different for you, but whatever works for you is best. I always say "one paragraph a day keeps the writer's block away." What I mean by that is you should try to write a little each morning, or at night. You could do a freewrite; like write about the first word you thought of that morning. My first thought is usually, I don't wanna get up, but hey, you could make that a story if you really wanted to. Writer's block is indisputably a form of the devil, but the devil can be beaten, so why can't writer's block? Another issue I know us writers struggle with is the pull of the stereotypical storyline. Don't get me wrong, everyone wants to be unique and original, but let's face it: that storyline about the boy and the girl who meet and have to overcome a challenge then they "fall in love" and then everything is perfect at the end. Some of those aspects are in my stories, but not every story I write. The boy and the girl who have feelings for each other, the challenge. But the challenge between the boy and the girl is for me, in most cases, a very minor part of the storyline. At the same time, though, that generic storyline always seems to work out so perfectly! You don't have to kill off any characters (Well, if you enjoy that, then by all means, add that as a non-generic twist), all your characters are fun to write about, and everything turns out happy and you get to be all cheesy and no one will care. This storyline can be fun to write, no doubt. My point is, be ORIGINAL! Make your stories stand out in magnificent ways! I think I've said this before, but make your characters as interesting and diverse as possible (unless, of course, they're meant to be similar in character). Settle for a completely spontaneous storyline instead of a stereotypical one. I'm doing National Novel Writing Month this November (my second year!!!) and I'm doing a story about a young cellist named Carrie Sinclair who buys an antique cello after her own treasured one is chewed on by her dog. In finding the cello, she also is lead into a wonderful adventure of mystery through Maine's most notable places (to be decided. I figured since I live in Maine now I should write a book that takes place in Maine). Right now I'm just making an outline so I'm not too lost once November 1st comes. Not too stereotypical, I hope??? I don't think it is, but it sounds good to me and I'm excited about it, and I play the cello, so it will be fun to write. But I'm stressing the issue about how her and this boy bump into each other near the beginning of the story. Something to note: they will not end up as a couple at the end. They will become more like brother and sister because they annoy each other quite often. But how will they bump into each other? I can't really decide. At first I thought, They should meet in a coffee shop. Then I thought, No way, too boring. It has to be exciting, the way they bump into each other, right? Or at least, it should be? This is the whole idea that made me want to write this blog post, after not posting for so long. I was thinking about writer problems and thinking about how many other people feel the way I do. ANYWAYS. I was thinking of ways that people bump into each other in real life, because let's face it: it isn't often that people bump into each other at coffee shops unless they are scheduled to meet there. So, technically...it wouldn't be bumping into someone. I don't know about you, but I run into my friends a LOT at the grocery store. I run into them randomly on the streets once in a blue moon. I bump into them while I'm running (sometimes literally). So I was thinking that Carrie and Ashton (the boy in the story) could meet while trying to buy the last half-gallon of chocolate milk in the store, or something like that. They would argue over it and eventually end up talking. It's probably as interesting as something like that can get, right? I hope I've helped you with the issues of the writin' life, because there are probably more that I will eventually talk about. Just look for the title "Emma vK: On..." There is definitely more to write about writer's block. So, yes. That is all. Happy writing, happy almost NaNoWriMo!!!!!!! :DDDDDDDD

Pictures=Lifesaver!

Wow, you guys, I am so sorry I haven't posted in...oh, God knows how long. A long time. I don't even have an excuse for you, and I feel like a jerk for keeping you guys waiting. Well, "you guys" being maybe one person. I would love it if more people read my blog, but that means I'll have to post a lot more. It will be my mid-years resolution. This post might be a little too similar to the post about setting, but here goes anyway. This summer, and a little bit before, I've taken a sudden interest in taking pictures with my mom's Nikon D-40 camera. It's a nice camera, and I'm clumsy, so I can only hope I won't magically break it or drop it in the ocean. Because that, my friends, is very well possible. Anyway, every time I take a landscape picture, I have a feeling that one day, I will use that picture to describe a place in the book that I will be writing (guys, I have like 15 more ideas for books that I need to write, and I already have, like, four going). Like, pictures I take of beaches we visit, the gigantic Sequoia and Redwood trees in California, the gaping deserts of Arizona and new Mexico, the endless crop fields of Texas and Arkansas...I have a feeling I will use it all someday, to describe someplace. Another place I loved visiting while we were moving to Maine this summer was San Francisco. I love big cities, especially New York City. People think I'm crazy, and sometimes I agree with them. I love the tall buildings, the lights, some of the interesting people you meet, the sightseeing, the shopping, I loved all of it. I loved San Francisco because it was so unique. It was unlike any other big city I've ever been to. The smells, the sights, the roads, the people, and all. There was also the Ghirardelli chocolate factory! It was so wonderful :) The only downside was that the Golden Gate bridge was enveloped in fog. We couldn't see the whole thing, just the bottom of it. Alcatraz would've been cool to visit on a foggy day, but the tickets were sold out until...wait for it..JULY 8TH!!! I was so mad, I mean, is it really that popular? When is the next time I will make it across the whole country, people? They don't know that, but URGGHHH!! ANYways. Imagery. Pictures of real-life places are great to have when you need imagery in your writing, because, like I said in my settings post, you've actually been there, you know what it's like, and most importantly, you know what it looks like. If you really want to go above and beyond, write down what you smell, and what you are hearing. All five senses can come into account with imagery. In fact, it's best that way. Usually I only do this if I'm planning on using that place for a setting in a book, but I guess I do it whenever I feel like it. Sorry this is so short, but I'm tired and my thoughts keep running away from me. So I strongly encourage you to take pictures of unique landscapes! Not pictures of everywhere you go, unless you want to. That's something I would do :) I cannot express how important pictures are in writing! If you're like me, you'd forget what a place looks like after a year, and then you're like, a year later, writing a book, Man, I wish I remembered what that place looked like...google it! I mean, I guess you could google it, but that's no fun! Happy writing! <3 (the pictures below are of a street in San Fran, then the Golden Gate Bridge)

Book Review-"Viola in Reel Life" by Adriana Trigiani

Wow...so I haven't posted in a while. Sorry about that. School has literally been so busy and I also had track and so many other things I'm trying to juggle. But since track is over and the school year is SORTA winding down (if you don't count finals), I'll have a lot more down time. I'd like to share with you two very inspirational books I've read in the past few weeks (and I've read a LOT of books in the past few weeks, including the rest of the Mortal Instruments series and the Infernal Devices, which I HIGHLY recommend). It's sort of a series, except a series which is only two books long, unless the author plans on making a sequel. Which I doubt, because the second book tied things up nicely. I plan to have my series that I'm writing be two books long. The first one's called The Ignorance Of Me, Daphne Willowston, which I have already written and am trying to edit (by trying I mean I'm procrastinating--A LOT), and the second one is basically explaining the backstory of what happened in the first book, while also tying up some loose ends from the first book also. ANYWAY. Book review. Right. So the two books I read are "Viola in Reel Life" and "Viola in the Spotlight" by Adriana Trigiani. The first book is about a girl, obviously named Viola, who has to go to Prefect Boarding School For Girls for a year because her parents are off filming a documentary in the Middle East. She has to leave behind New York City, her best friends Andrew and Caitlin, and basically everything she has ever known. The only thing she has to get through her year at Prefect is her beloved video camera. She keeps a video diary and her dream is to go to film school and become one of the greatest directors of all time. She meets her three room mates, Suzanne, Romy, and Marisol, who actually seem to like being there. With a year filled with first documentaries, first boyfriends, first kisses, and first everything, Viola is in for her own movie, in a way she would've never imagined.

A Little Something Random I Wrote...

The formatting on this is ALL messed up, so it might not make sense, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Chapter One: Chapter 1 "This will be a story about you and me. I’m telling the story, but you see, it will be all about us. This letter is to you, the writer, and how I fell in love after just a few words from your mouth. You see, I think you were conflicted and confused about life before I came. You wrote too many books at once, just trying to get your ideas out before they flew away into some abyss known as your thoughts. See, ideas never really left your brain, they just ran away until you couldn’t see them anymore. This happened with school, too. You spent so much time in your own head thinking about negative things, that thoughts that were worth remembering had time to get away. Too much time. That’s how you ended up with only the negative things to think about for a while. One of the reasons you always acted happy when you were really sad was because you didn’t like to draw attention to yourself. You liked it sometimes, but you felt ashamed. Very ashamed indeed, when you liked attention yet felt ashamed both because you liked it and didn’t like it. You were a confusing person. But because of that confusion, you wandered. You wandered a lot, until you found me. Then you found a stopping place. Well, not a stopping place, exactly. A starting place. Chapter 1 You sulked around in the halls of our high school on the rainiest day of the year. I think you were affected by bad weather. In fact, I knew you were affected by bad weather. In French, this life-changing moment in history, we were partnered up for dialogue in front of the class. I walked up to you. We were only supposed to speak French, so I said: “Tu n’amies pas la pluie?” “Non, il fait tout sembler sombre.” “Je conviens. Mais tu devries essayer…l’acte heureux.” You shrugged. And at that moment you looked into my eyes, really looked into them. It was easy for me to look at those emerald green, gorgeous, heart-stopping eyes of yours, but you seemed uncomfortable with eye contact. I was sad when you looked away. I was captivated by you from the first moment I saw you, I just didn’t know it yet. I think we both had a lot of hidden emotions. You had your happiness tucked away in a safe but dangerous place. I know what you’d say to that. “It’s an oxymoron.” Safe and Dangerous. Well, it is. But your happiness was so safe because it was strong, but dangerous because it was in a place where it could slip away at any moment. I had my hidden love and dedication. See, you were great in school except for Biology, and I just kind of sucked at school in general. I didn’t have one class above a B-. We did our French dialogue about the weather, and we got a perfect score, thanks to your good pronunciation and reminders to enunciate at the end of the word, not in the middle, like English words do. You were pushy, yet in a sexy, determined, hard-working way. I liked how it almost seemed you had confidence in me in that moment, although you’d seen me a thousand times before just blow of a test or get yelled at by a teacher in front of the class. After French class, I sort of followed you to your next class. I just felt this really strange attraction to you. I wasn’t really afraid of the attraction, maybe just afraid that you would reject me, like tell me to “bug off” or something. But you didn’t. Instead you turned around, looking at me, a little below the eyes. You just couldn’t do it back then, huh? The whole eye contact thing. I never really understood that about you. “Is there something that I can help you with?” you asked me slowly, pulling your dark blue hood off. Your mess of dirty blond hair was being flattened by your hands at first. You took out a small brush from the outer pocket of your messenger bag and began brushing your shoulder-length hair. I improvised. I had a habit of doing that. “What lunch do you have?” Please B, please B lunch, please please please. “I have A lunch today,” you said, shifting your bag. “Let me guess, you want to have lunch with me?” Back then you looked at me half like I was some foreign animal from your parents’ zoo, and half like you just wanted to talk to me, spill all your secrets out. It was that kind of look where you just needed to talk to someone, anyone. I couldn’t help notice the barely noticeable smile playing on your alluring lips. That was the first time you smiled at me, even if it was the smallest smile I’d ever seen. “Yeah, I’d like that,” I said, smiling back. You nodded, your slight smile vanishing instantly. “I have A lunch tomorrow, though. Meet me by the café? I have to buy lunch.” Satisfied with your answer, I said, “Cool. You know, I could always bring you lunch. Have a picnic if it’s nice enough outside.” Your eyes flickered to the rainy, gloomy outdoors, then back at me, with an incredulous expression. “You really think it’s going to clear up anytime soon?” I considered that unlikely after a few seconds. “You’re right. It’s a date,” I concluded. “It’s not a date,” you said, looking down. That hit me a little like ice. I guess you were right, it wasn’t really a date. I don’t know if you knew that I liked you. I don’t even know if I knew that I liked you. “Oh,” I eventually said. And as I saw a big group of obnoxious guys roughhousing and stumbling straight toward us, I grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you out of the way, and we were pushed against a railing as they rumbled past, whooping and shouting insanities. “Idiots,” you muttered under your breath, and I laughed a little, just barely. “What?” you asked, moving away from me, repositioning your messenger bag. I shook my head, just smiling at you. “Nothing.” We stared at each other for a moment, and I finally forced myself to say, “Well, I gotta get to World History. I’ll…see you tomorrow at lunch?” “Yeah, see ya.” You walked away from me, slowly through the crowd of students and annoyed-looking teachers, and glanced back at me, just for a second, grinning slightly. Your hair framed your beautiful face and your green eyes seemed to look at me and past me at the same time. That’s when I knew."