"You asked me to stay
So I stayed
Through the Summer's long days
And the Winter's cold nights.
I stayed till I thought
I couldn't stay a moment longer -
A Summer, a Winter, two Summers more,
But you asked me to stay,
and so I still stayed.
The world was shouting,
"You're wasting your life!
This isn't your place!
This isn't your fight!"
Deep down, I guess,
I knew all along
What they said wasn't true.
Yet their voices were louder,
Sometimes louder than you,
But you asked me to stay,
And so I just stayed.
I built myself a hideaway.
I battened down the hatches
As more than the world
Criticized my strange passage.
I didn't follow the path set in stone,
But I didn't realize
I was making my own.
All that I was sure of,
All that I knew was
You had asked me to stay,
And so I stayed.
I didn't even know
If they needed me here.
Sometimes I wondered
If I stayed only because of fear.
Was it your voice that I heard?
Or was everyone else right
When they accused me of wasting my life?
No, no voice was heard.
It was deeper than that.
You planted the answer right in my heart;
So you never had to ask.
I just always knew
When others turned and left,
You made me to stay,
And so I stay."

This is where I'm at. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm right. I don't know, but God does, and maybe that will be enough for my worrisome heart.

Writing and People and Memories

It was a 4th of July picnic. Even now I think it's funny that he was the one who cared. He was the one who asked questions and wondered what I spent endless hours doing. I was writing. He asked questions that were ones I wanted to answer but didn't expect to be asked, and now I wish I had been far enough along in my writing to actually show him the things I was writing because he would have read anything I wrote.

I remember burning with indignation when my burst of enthusiasm towards a book idea was met once with - "I'm so proud of you having waited all evening to talk about writing." I asked myself if I had really dominated the conversation with stories and writing. No, it was a joke that I took to heart. I hardly talked about writing to anyone but my mother who was left feeling overwhelmed with the sheer amount of information. About characters. About story arcs. About writing a synopsis. I knew they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't get it.

And he probably wouldn't have either, but he would have listened, and he would have asked questions.

He was my great-uncle who lived just two driveways down when I was growing up. Not many people get to know their great-aunts and uncles, but we even forewent the 'great' part and just called him 'uncle'. His wife was the one who took it upon herself to teach all of us five kids grammar. One by one, we'd get old enough to walk through the sagebrush and cheat to their house, but those hour and a half sessions every Thursday morning didn't really let us get to know my great-uncle. It wasn't until my great-aunt passed away that we truly got to know him.

He was one of those people who would encourage you in any of your pursuits. He gave me my first guitar, and I'm just sad that I didn't get the chance to show him some finished project. Some partial accomplishment of the whole. His imitation of Donald Duck and just general sense of humor was so fun. It's funny - his compliments are probably the ones I'll remember the most out of any I've ever received. After he passed away, my mom was going through some things, and she told me that she found what looked to be a story he was working on himself.


It's sure hard sometimes with this writing thing. It gets lonely, and if you don't know someone who is also a writer, then there is no one to understand the drive to write. People who don't write can be encouraging too, but they still don't really understand. They don't understand how to help you. They don't understand what on earth you're doing with your time, but when you find a patient, listening ear, it sure is something. And when you find an ear, you want so badly to show them that their patience and belief in you was not in vain. What if they aren't around when you finally 'get there'? That's a hard thought.

Story Writing Stuff (My Flawless Plan)

MRE's FLAWLESS * NOVEL ATTACK PLAN

1. Discover idea and brainstorm enough to start writing.
2. Write first three chapters.
3. Write first draft of Synopsis.
4. Finish first draft.
5. Take a few weeks off.
6. Reread first draft. Read straight through first time. Maybe pinpoint ‘theme’ or purpose for the story if it hasn’t been found already. Wait a week.
7. In the meantime write out character journals. Figure out backstory and character quirks. Fill out questionnaires. Know their wants and needs. This research will possibly help in the plot solidifying.
8. Work on one liner as soon as you pinpoint the purpose.
9. Read through again. Write down brief descriptions of each scene. Highlight favorite parts or important pieces in the scene. Decide which ones are worth keeping or not.
10. Write saved scenes down on flashcards.
11. Use 3-Act-Structure Scene List and see which scenes are there and which scenes are needed.
12. Brainstorm new scenes and then compile flashcards.
13. Start second draft. Macro-edit. Rearrange scenes. Write new ones.
14. Write second draft of Synopsis.
15. [Do you take a break between second and third draft??] Do micro-edits. Sharpen characters. Sharpen dialogue. Description (All different senses). Cut purposelessness.
16. Bribe, threaten, force someone to read finished project, if someone hasn’t already.  

*I should probably warn you that I have yet to follow this list from start to finish so I don't technically know if this is flawless. However, I was quite pleased with myself when I finished compiling it, and I intend to try to follow through with it. I mean...it looks good; so there's that. I've done most of the different steps on different books, and I hope I've included ways to really sharpen each part of a story. What does your story writing system look like? Do you have a groove figured out yet?

I'm about finished with the first draft of a story, and it'll probably be the one that gets to test this flawless plan. I always feel a little rudderless when I finish a story and have to take a break from it. I never know what is the next most important story or work for me to do. I think I'll probably begin by writing a synopsis and maybe some character journals for another comparatively unmessy project. I do have a messy one. Fantasy. Kinda Urban Fantasy. It was written in the days where I didn't really have the big picture figured out so it's a bunch of random scenes, pretty much. I don't know if I should arrange it like a romance. Maybe. I don't know. It takes place over a span of many years, and I always have difficulty writing those kinds of stories. Eventually.

*REAL LIFE RANDOMNESSSSS*

Winter has been insanely long here. We're going to have a white Valentine's Day which hasn't really happened for awhile. The days have started getting into the 30s, but there is still at least a foot of snow most places. We've also been having a lot of freezing rain and stuff. Gave the snow a reflective layer which was kinda cool, but I also felt like I was going to die most of the time, including when the car was in park AND had the emergency brake on and still moved after I got out.

I finally got an Instagram. I post a lot on it because of all the pictures I take everyday. If anyone is interested, I go under the same 'Sagebrush_Girl' as here. I still want to post pictures here, but I am trying to figure out exactly what I post about on this blog. I've been mostly doing random, 'whatever I think of' stuff, and now I think I should figure it out and stick to it since I've had the blog five months. What is your favorite stuff to read that I've posted? Suggestions are warmly received.

Lastly, I'm going to be an aunt for the second time! I have a step-niece, and now my brother and his wife decided to have a child, and it's a little boy! Very exciting. I just wish I didn't live across the country from them. Anyways, I'm over here settling down for a four hour (till 1 AM) babysitting stint with much hope for great writing accomplishments. Maybe even finishing the book.

I hope all of you are well!

 

I knew Spring was coming,
Even before the birds,
Because the day would come
When you would call.
"Is the snow gone yet?"
You'd ask almost before 'hello',
Before you'd wonder how I was
Or what another Winter had done to my soul.
In fact I don't think I ever knew
If you ever wondered.
You would just call to see
If every bit of snow had left,
And then you'd seamlessly slip back into my life
As if you never even left.
You couldn't seem to see
I was just a stranger,
Waiting for a stranger to come back again.
I'd wait expectantly
For the birds to sing to me
On some bright and melting day
Because I knew you'd ask
If the birds had begun to sing.
You'd think I'd know these things,
But then you think I know a lot.
You thought I knew why
You left long before each first snowfall
-To beat the cold, of course -
But maybe you were avoiding
A long, freezing Winter with me.
It's not too hard to see
Since I wasn't enough to keep you here
And cold was enough to make you disappear.
"Is the snow all melted yet?"
You ask, almost before 'hello',
Before I hardly know it's you,
Before I hardly am awake.
"No, the snow's still here.
I think I'll be snowed in for the year."

Random, Rambling Thoughts of an INFJ (#4)

Stressed.

Yeah, that word sums it up. The hat my mom knitted for me comes off and goes right back on. It's been that way since December. I forget sometimes I have hair, except when I'm zipping up my coat, and it gets caught. Except when my scarf pushes the wild escape artists into my mouth.

You look tired.

I probably should be getting more sleep, but I don't try. My soul is too tired to give my body enough rest. There's the problem with hats - they don't hide eyes. I could disguise tired eyes behind makeup, but I don't give myself time. Dragged out of bed, and then I'm always running from one thing to another with gaping, empty hours between. Gaping, empty hours with my brain - a brain that thinks too much.

Shut up.

Funny thing about brains - they don't listen. The thoughts keep coming.

Shoulda, coulda, wish I woulda...

This train of thought is old, but it's the gift that keeps giving. I should spend my time more wisely. I could've used those gaping, empty hours to do this and this and this. I wish I would've because now I have an endless 'to-do' list.

You don't need to be stressed.

...Because saying that has always helped people not be stressed in the past.

Stressed.

I wonder if I'm going to be like this for the rest of my life. They say stressed out people live shorter lives. Do I want to live a long life? It sounds exhausting. And stressful.  I'll get back to you in ten years.