From a Writer's Notebook (New Orleans) + The #ThankAWriter Project

Unfortunately the surprise giveaway items are not quite ready, so that will have to wait until my next post, but in the meantime I thought I'd share a few more thoughts from my trip to New Orleans. Here, in case you are interested, are excerpts from my notebook:

"We started the day with beignets. Cafe Du Monde was understandably crowded, people jostling for space at the tiny round tables on the sprawling patio. The beignets themselves were buried under snowy mountains of powdered sugar. We sipped coffee quietly, trying not to breathe when we bit into them, for fear of blowing powdered sugar at each other."

"Faulkner House Books is almost unnoticeable from the outside. It blends in to the alleyway, and has only a small sign and a historical marker as advertisement. Inside the books go all the way up to the ceiling. On the walls that aren't covered in bookshelves there are autographed portraits and letters from writers like Hemingway,  Flannery O'Connor, even Harper Lee. Standing here, where William Faulkner lived for ten months while he wrote his first novel, feels a little like standing on sacred ground. I try to imagine the French Quarter of the 1920's, and my mind can almost conjure the image. But then I step back out onto the street, into the chilly shade of the alleyway, and I am once again faced with the New Orleans of today."

I hope you enjoyed those! The next thing I want to talk about is Nathan Bransford's #ThankAWriter project, in which you write a hand-written letter to the author (or authors) who made a difference in your life. I've always been a huge proponent of thanking the authors who inspired you in some way, which is why I absolutely LOVE this idea. And the thing is, it's not a new concept. People have been writing letters to their favorite authors for as long as books and hand-written communication have been a prominent part of society. These days conventional fan mail is dying out and being replaced by quick  notes on author's twitter or Facebook accounts. While electronic methods are convenient, they don't begin to match the weight that receiving a real letter has. Authors deserve to recognized for their hard work, and even more, they deserve to know that they've touched someone in some way. Over the next few weeks I hope to write several letters to authors who have inspired me, and I hope you will, too. Details on the project can be found by clicking here.

If you've written your own letters I'd love it if you would share them in the comments, or simply spread the word about this initiative. Also, stay tuned for more giveaway news!

New Orleans, Friendship, YA authors, and Secrets

It's been one amazing week. I know I said I was going to blog during my trip to New Orleans...but that didn't really happen, so you'll just have to deal with a shorter recap. There are too many pictures to fit in the small space of a post, but I will be attempting to weave them throughout. Enjoy!

My first glimpse of the skyline

Part I: New Orleans

Pirate's Alley

New Orleans was amazing. No, seriously. We (myself, my mom, and my dad) wandered through the french quarter and visited two bookshops: Faulkner House Books and Dauphine Street Books. We ate beignets and savored cappuccinos. We rode the street cars, visited cemeteries, and drove leisurely through the Garden District. We tapped our feet to the rhythm of the city, helped of course, by numerous street musicians. I tried my first raw oyster. (I don't really see the appeal) It was a little chillier than we expected, but we just used the colder weather as an excuse to walk on the sunny side of the streets. Mardi Gras beads still hung in the trees. The city filled me up in ways I hadn't expected, and I let myself breathe it all in. Even on our last day, when we ended up eating breakfast at the mall version of Cafe Du Monde, I savored the empty, echo-y surroundings, and swayed to the elevator music coming down from the speakers. New Orleans taught me to continue tapping along to life's beat, and to love its eccentricities. Also, note to self: Don't wear black when you know you will be consuming powdered sugar.

          

Part II: Friendship

The past couple of days that I haven't been in New Orleans were spent reconnecting with friends. Because we spend so much of our lives doing schoolwork and/or theatre, it sometimes feels like we spend a lot of time supporting each other through the ever present stress, which is important of course, but not the best way to spend time with friends. On Friday we were finally able to get together and have some fun shopping for prom dresses. (Everyone is going to look beautiful, by the way!) It was so nice to be able to relax (mentally, not physically- shopping is strenuous!) and get back in touch with the foundation of our friendship, which was built on so much more than school. I am so grateful to have such amazing, supportive, talented friends, and I really could not ask for anything more. 

I also got to see the movie Life of Pi with a friend who I recently got back in touch with. It was so much fun, and Life of Pi was awesome. If you haven't already, go see it. Now.

So I guess the lesson in all of this is to keep in touch with your friends. They are the people who will always be there to make you laugh or to support you when the going gets tough. And besides, you could have a really, really great time.

Part III: YA Authors

Guess who I got to meet yesterday? Victoria Schwab!  She was on a panel with two equally awesome YA writers: Beth Revis and Carrie Ryan at Blue Willow Bookshop. They were all so happy and enthusiastic and they answered our questions with much laughter and a little bit of teasing. There was a lot of talk about short fiction, which was interesting because I feel like it doesn't come up enough in most author events (especially for novelists). I got my copy of Victoria's book, The Archived, signed (in silver!!), and a picture with her (Yay!):

I'm only a few pages in, but I'm loving it already. If you'd like to learn more about Victoria (And you should, because I'm convinced she's just about the most adorable person on the planet), here are a few links:

Blog (Inspiring posts on everything from fan fiction to wanderlust)

Youtube Channel (Check out her Making History series!)

Part IV: Secrets!

Okay, so admittedly this won't be a secret for long since I'm about to tell you what it is, but you have to admit it's a better section title. Ready? Here we go...

Friday morning I got an e-mail from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and...

I GOT A SILVER AWARD for my writing portfolio! 

That means I'm going to New York City, my friends, and I could not be more excited! I'll have more news as the ceremony date gets closer, but until then I plan to let this whole thing sink in for a while. I still can't believe it's actually happening!

Part V: Actual Secrets + A Hint!

You didn't see that coming, did you? I am planning to do an epic giveaway on The Blank Page, and you're invited! What am I giving away? Well, that's a secret. But here's a hint:

Well, I hope that makes up for this long, rambling post! Stay tuned for giveaway news in the near future. You don't want to miss this!

Self Image 2013 + New Year's Resolution Check In

First of all, can you believe it's already March? What about all the inspirational New Year's posts I was going to write? Well, I thought since we're embarking on the first I mean third month of the new year I'd give you a little 2013 update to hopefully inspire you to refresh your new year spirit.

Let's start with my self image 2013, inspired by this Youtube video.


Laura Mills, 18. Writer. Reader. Daughter. Dog lover.

I still don't know where I'm going to college, but I'm hoping that will change soon.

I'm currently a little too addicted to Youtube. Part of me wants to join their realm and become a video blogger and the other part of me wants to run away and hide at the thought.

I have the most supportive family, friends, and teachers in the entire world. I am grateful for them every. single. day.

I'm a sometimes traveler and an always observer. A book-binder and a lover of old things.

My favorite poem at the moment is "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver. My favorite book is and always will be The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale.

I'm a twitter newbie, a blogger veteran, and a tumblrer never.

Hopefully, this will be the year I write a novel.

I'm Laura, and it's 2013.


Next, I'm going to take a look at my New Year's Resolutions:

1. Write a Novel: This summer, it's happening. THIS. SUMMER.
2. Take a walk every morning: Hahaha! Yeah, that hasn't happened.
3. Read 30 books: Four down, twenty-six to go!
4. Spend more time with friends: Went to a concert with friend #1 on Friday, hung out at the Waffle Bus with friend #2 on Saturday, and going to a concert with friend #3 on Wednesday. (Note: Numbers do not correspond to "friendship status" or anything, just the order they happen to fall in the schedule of events!)
5. Post a new blog post every Sunday (morning): Haven't really been sticking to this schedule, but I am posting fairly regularly, which is good enough for me!

Well, there you have it. Thank you to those who commented on my last post! Your feedback/thoughts really mean a lot to me! In the comments below I'd love to hear your self image in 2013 and/or how your New Year's Resolutions are holding up.

ps. Spring break is almost upon us! My family and I are taking a three day trip to New Orleans, and I plan to write at least one blog post while I'm there. Stay tuned for pictures and stories :)

Life Jealous

Comic by Mark Stivers

Sometimes, I just want to live someone else's life. Specifically the people I admire most. Successful writers, my favorite Youtubers, people who I think are more beautiful or smart or funny than me. That's not to say I sit around all day and mope about how terrible my life is, but sometimes the feeling is strong enough that it scares me a little.

I call it being life jealous. For those of you who haven't experienced this before (which I find rather hard to believe), here is a quick definition of my own making:

Life Jealousy: The overwhelming desire to live someone else's life. I'm not talking about wanting someone's wardrobe, or wishing you had a cottage by the lake like they do. This feeling is characterized by a desire for another person's job, friends, family, and experiences. Sometimes it gets so bad that you find yourself wanting their problems, too (because hey, they're bound to be better than yours, right?).
Note: This often leads to the thought that if only you could become more like them, your life would be magically imbued with the potential for awesomeness.

But the truth is (and this is a hard thing for me to come to terms with, too) that these people you admire so much for their spunk and creativity, and for whom life seems to come so easily, would probably laugh at you if you told them you thought they had a perfect life. No one's life is a piece of cake. No one is spunky or creative all the time. Everyone has bad days, and everyone deals with their own bouts of life jealousy.

When you're caught up in the fantasy of someone else's life, it can be hard to see your own with an unbiased eye. But when you think about it, (and I'm going to get kind of cheesy here) our lives are already imbued with the potential for awesomeness, and when we find it, our own potential, we won't need anyone else's.

So let's think about who you're life jealous of. Most of mine are listed in the People Who Rock My World post I did back in November, but I have one addition: Robyn Schneider. She's a writer, fashionista, and generally an all-around beautiful person. Oh! And she's friends with some really cool people, like Kaleb Nation and other great YouTubers. Obviously getting over my life jealousy is still a work in progress, but I'm trying to see them as role models and not people I constantly compare myself to. Let me know in the comments if you've experienced this and who your role models are!

Review: The Keep

Creepy me with creepy book!

I finished The Keep by Jennifer Egan over a month ago, but I haven't really been able to formulate any coherent thoughts about it until now.

Here, in all its glory, is the Goodreads plot summary: Two cousins, irreversibly damaged by a childhood prank whose devastating consequences changed both their lives, reunite twenty years later to renovate a medieval castle in Eastern Europe, a castle steeped in blood lore and family pride. Built over a secret system of caves and tunnels, the castle and its violent history invoke and subvert all the elements of a gothic past: twins, a pool, an old baroness, a fearsome tower. In an environment of extreme paranoia, cut off from the outside world, the men reenact the signal event of their youth, with even more catastrophic results. And as the full horror of their predicament unfolds, a prisoner, in jail for an unnamed crime, recounts an unforgettable story that brings the crimes of the past and present into piercing relation. 

Great premise, right? I picked this book up because it wasn't the kind of thing I normally read. I mean, I'll read just about anything so maybe that's not the best descriptor, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not usually into the whole mystery/horror genre. I am, however, fascinated by old European castles.

But that's the thing about this book: It's hard to describe. Yes, it's creepy. Yes, there are funny bits. Yes, there is some mystery to it. But just the simple combination of those feelings isn't enough to tell you how I felt when I closed it.

Let's start with the narrative structure. This book is really two stories in one. The first is about Danny, a guy who travels to an unnamed country in eastern Europe to help his cousin renovate an old castle. He's a bit quirky: He must be connected to the internet at all times, and he has kind of a sixth sense when it comes to finding wireless internet access. He wears eyeliner and is very attached to a pair of lucky boots. I really liked his character and he's definitely one of the most unique narrators I've read in a long time. The second story is about a prisoner who's enrolled in a creative writing class. He too is interesting, but almost more interesting are the people who are in jail with him, especially his roommate Davis, and Holly the creative writing teacher. The stories are told in alternating chapters, with Danny's in 3rd person and the prisoner's in 1st. And then the reader realizes that the prisoner is actually the one writing Danny's story.

Once that happens, things move along very quickly. The setting is just plain awesome, and the keep, the stronghold, seems to loom over you through the entire story. Secrets come out, alliances form, and everything speeds toward a heart pounding and very surprising climax.

The two things that bothered me about this book were:
a) There were a couple rather significant loose ends that weren't really tied up.
b) The last chapter is basically a short story told from the POV of a minor character. The last few pages of Danny's story left me feeling so emotionally raw, but that feeling was lessened by the add-on.

Overall, I suggest you read this book for the feeling you get when you finish it. It's the type of book that leaves you staring up into the darkness, ghostly images and words still echoing in your mind. That's why it took me so long to write a review of The Keep. It's hard to distance yourself from it, even after you've read the last page.

The Most Rewarding Moment

This will have to be a quick post because it's late and I still have homework to do, but I couldn't move on without posting this:

This evening I went to the awards ceremony for the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. I won a regional Gold Key for my Senior Portfolio, as well as a Women in the Visual and Literary Arts award, which were both huge honors. I got to christen a beautiful new dress by wearing it to the event, and it was all around a wonderful evening.

One of the best parts, though, was meeting one of the judges who read my portfolio. After I described a couple of the pieces in my portfolio (since all the judging is blind, she wouldn't have known which one was mine), she told me that it was one of the best portfolios she read. She went on to reference a specific story and told me it felt like she was standing in a bookstore, reading something she'd picked up off the shelf. I kind of stood there numbly during this praise session, a huge smile on my face, as it began to dawn on me that this woman was my first reader. What I mean by that is she was the first person outside of my friends and family and critique partners who had read my work and was telling me, in person, what she thought. The whole time the only thing I could think was, "This is what it must feel like to be an author." Somehow this little interaction felt like the beginning of something larger than I expected, like some aspect of the writing world I haven't experienced yet was waking from its long slumber, arching its back, coming to life. It's that relationship between reader and writer. It's that feeling that your words have touched someone, and the realization that your story resonated enough that they would want to share their reaction with you.

And that, above everything else, was the highlight of my evening. Of course I'm grateful for the tangible awards I received tonight, but as for the most rewarding moment, that one has to be it.

My dad and me were all smiles tonight

Waking Up to Stories

If you have not heard me wax poetic about why you should be listening to the New Yorker Fiction Podcast, you haven't been following me closely enough. Basically it's a podcast in which a well known author reads their favorite short story from the New Yorker archives, and then talks about it with the magazine's fiction editor, Deborah Treisman. I usually listen in bed, with ear buds tucked into my ears, staring up at ceiling of my darkened room and letting the words fill my head. There is something immensely therapeutic about falling asleep to someone reading a story, and I highly recommend it to everyone, not just fellow writers. But what I want to talk about today is waking up to stories.

Recently I got an alarm clock that doubles as an ipod player. For I while I set it so I would wake up to my movie themes playlist, but one night when I had been listening to the New Yorker Fiction Podcast I plugged my ipod in an fell asleep without resetting it. The next morning I woke up to the same story I'd been listening to the night before, which happened to be Miranda July's "Roy Spivey", as read by David Sedaris. It's a strange feeling, waking up to David Sedaris's voice, reading a story in which, in one instance, a celebrity pumps Frebreeze onto the underarms of the woman he's sitting next to on an airplane. But what I realized was, that in the space between waking and sleeping the context of the story fell away. I paid attention to the sound of the words. Strange images flashed through my dreams, while all the while the voice of the reader cut through my mind like water. Eventually I woke up enough to identify what I was listening to, but I realized that the important part had already taken place. The words were already in my subconscious.

"Subconscious" may seem like a loaded term for you. I'm not saying that your "inner mind" is going to write your books for you, or that doing this randomly and without thinking about it will make you a better writer. But it's been my experience that you have to pay attention to how stories work, and listening to them, especially in this half-conscious state, allows your brain to detach itself from the emotional context and just listen to the words. It lets you hear the way sentences flow together. It shows you how the emphasis falls on some words and not others. Maybe your dreams change when you wake up listening to a certain story. Pay attention to what happens in these dreams, because that's the kind of vivid and visceral reaction we writers are trying to get from our readers. There is a reason that so many writers make writing the first thing they do in the morning after waking up. In this space we are closer to our subconscious, and when we wake up to stories we wake up with words already in our heads.