You know the times when you feel as though you haven’t accomplished anything in your life? The days when you sit in the chair in tears because you can’t come up with a single thing that you have completed that would be considered meaningful.
A couple weeks ago was the end of a long month of feelings like that. I was in a nearly constant state of depression because of it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with one meaningful thing that I had accomplished.
My amazing boyfriend did his best to help me through that, but like most people he eventually gave up on that and told me the truth; that I was being a big crybaby.
Which is true.
Think about it, each and every one of us has done something meaningful in our lives. Whether it’s good or bad, there has been something you have done for, or to, someone that helped them to remember you forever.
It might have been something as simple as holding the door open for someone, or giving them a hug when they were sad. Or, it could have been something big like publishing a best selling novel and being able to make a living.
Today, I just wanted to say to everyone reading this that you have done something in your life. It may not look big on paper, but it was big to someone, and that’s what matters.


The Pen Ran Away!

Long time no see!





I have this pen that I’m obsessed with. Quite a lot, actually. Enough that I’ve had at least four of these expensive pens in the past four years and at least the same amount of pencils. It’s the pen by Dr. Grip. I love it. Too much.

I had two of them in working order not very long ago, but they began disappearing. One would be there for me when I needed it, but the other one would be nowhere to be found. They would switch places every few days. It was as though they hated each other. It seemed like the first pen was upset at me that I had replaced him so soon after he’d gone missing that one time.

Eventually, the pens grew to get along. At least somewhat. They must have figured out that I didn’t want to use them both at the same time, so they just had to coexist in the pencil box if they ever ended up there. Which they didn’t.

I forgot about the fancy pens for a few months. I will admit it. With the pens, I forgot about my dream of being an author and threw all of my effort into something else. When I came back, stressed, feeling lost, and wondering what happened to have made my brain such a scraggily mess of TV shows and dog grooming, the pens were gone.

It’s as though they won’t forgive me for leaving in such a frenzied hurry to find some way out of the mess I was in. But that’s alright. These pens survived with me though my college writing (attempt) carrier. But now that I have a full time job and am striving to survive this thing called young adulthood, I can’t be there for them as I had once wanted. At least not for now. At least not yet.

So this is my message to these inanimate objects known as pens, thank you for being there through everything. Helping me write down my feelings, helping me plot the life of a character, helping me brutally kill that very character off… Though I’m now working 8-6pm 5 days a week like much of the world, it doesn’t mean I’m gone! I’m still here! I still want to be an author, and I will never let that dream go. 

I’m too much of a cheapskate now to spend the money on a new one, so I want you to always know you have a spot here. So, might you consider returning?


A new story idea entered my mind this morning. My mermaid story is still my main project, but this one was definitely too good to pass up.

As I saved the sparkley new document in my ‘books’ folder, I realized how many unfinished books I actually have. I’ve been writing on a computer since I was around 9 or 10, just to give you an idea. Taking that into mind, there were only a couple that were completely lost by those awful computer crashes of my childhood. When I was between the ages of 13 and 15, about all I did was start new books. Fanfictions, novels, daydreams, fake journals, everything. They were all new. Sometimes I would even create two or three new stories a day.

Thinking of it that way, I have a lot of unfinished books.

I’ve determined that starting new stories is the best part. The 1/4 mark to the halfway mark is the worst, and then the downhill slide compares to nothing else.

To be completely honest, I haven’t finished many books. Fairy’s Heart is truly the only one that I would consider finished. At least in the way that I wrote The End at the bottom of the page. It took me 3 years to write though, and by the time I finished it at the age of 17, my writing ability had increased drastically. I was so shocked at how horrible my characters actually were and how bland many of the scenes seemed to be. Fairy’s Heart, though still one of my fondest book memories, sits on the shelf waiting for me to start from scratch again. 

Looking through that folder, I am falling in love with the stories again. But I need to stick to the ones I’m on now. The mermaid one, and now this completely unknown one that I came up with this morning. I hope, pray, and pine for another finished book. I crave the ability to write ‘The End’ on another story. 15,000 words? 75,000 words? 120,000? I don’t care how long the novel is. I want to find the ending one day. I owe it to these beautiful characters.

To the other writers out there, what do you do to get yourself to the ending point? How do you keep the shiny objects of new story ideas in the background for a later date?

Procrastination Must Be Destroyed!

So, procrastination is a good friend of mine.We go way back… But our relationship shall be kept a secret.

Only, I think it’s time to end it.

It became a hurtful relationship. So… I must say goodbye!


I have no freaking clue. Every night, I promise myself that I will actually wake up at 6 in the morning, do some yoga, make a healthy breakfast, get ready (even do my hair!) and then have a while to sit and read or write. A good start to my day before I have to be at work.

Now, what actually ends up happening is this; the alarm goes off and I hit the snooze button – even edit it for thirty minutes. When it decides I can’t snooze anymore, I do the required math problems to shut it up and go back to sleep until my next alarm goes off. This repeats itself until 7:30 or 8. I have to leave the house at 8:30.

Evil procrastination!

Of course, this cycle isn’t because I stay up late. I physically can’t. I fight dogs all day long, so I’m quite exhausted by the time I get home after dark. I’m honestly not sure how I get myself to exercise. (Seriously! Why am I not procrastinating on THAT?! Is that my way of procrastinating on my writing? Well… it’s healthy?)

Perhaps my over sleeping is because I’m getting too much sleep? I’ve heard that can be a problem too. It would make sense.

Sleeping besides the point, I want to write.

I want to finish a novel I’ve been working on for a couple of months now. I REALLY want to finish it. It’s a really good plot, if I do say so myself. It’s about mermaids…. and an evil scientist… and kidnappings…. That’s all the information I’m disclosing due to me being overly paranoid.

Why is it not finished? Why am I at a mere 14,000 words?


Curse word, curse word, procrastination.

I’m procrastinating on it right now, in fact.

I must admit, I’m writing a scene that I’m not particularly proud of. I don’t like the setting, or how it’s unfolding. It’s a boring scene. One that needs to explode into flames and then ram straight into a shooting star and burn again. But I’ll worry about it more in editing. Right now, I want to finish the book so I actually can edit it!

Wish me luck…

So, my question is this; What do you suggest to get myself to stop procrastinating? How do I make this novel a complete priority?

Those who have been following me for a while know this has been something I’ve struggled with a lot. I honestly enjoy writing and reading, but if I get stuck in a scene that isn’t working right, everything stops.


Do I?

I need some opinions. And I need some opinions badly.

I’ve been considering going for my masters in creative writing. It’s my dream, after all. I’m only scared. With how things are going here at home, I don’t really know what the next day is going to be like. This is making me want to go for a degree that’s comfy. One that I don’t have to worry about anything. Like accounting, even though I completely despised every accounting course I’ve done.

But the only thing I can do with the creative writing degree, other than write, is teach. That’s something I’ve never really wanted to do.

I’m so confused. So very lost in my own brain. I want to write, I’ve always wanted to write. But do I really want to spend four more years in a very expensive school for a degree I don’t need to do what I want to do? Or do I search for a different degree – whether I hate it or not, to live the rest of my life not writing full time.

I’m really needing to sign up for classes for this coming semester. I feel like I need to decide this quickly. I realize I’m probably overreacting with this. It’s not like what I choose for this next semester decides what I do for the rest of my life. It only feels like it.

Is there any one else out there who has jumped and followed their dreams? Even though they’re considered irresponsible and childish by the rest of the population?

Full Time?

It’s been a month from some bad tv soap opera. Case closed. I’ll appear again more often soon. I hope…

I’ve been trying to find a full time job. In this economy for a person with a simple AS degree in general studies, that’s not an easy feat. Especially when I have vowed never to go back to fast food.

I’ve applied to countless jobs and have only had one interview. Which I bombed. But that’s another story. Obviously, I’m still in my minimum wage extremely part time book store job. I love it there. I just can’t live on it.

Because I have yet to find someone who even considers hiring me, I began thinking. Maybe it’s a sign from God? Yes, I realize, that sounds cheesy. But I believe in stuff like that. I began wondering if maybe it was an opportunity to jump for what I’ve been wanting all along.

Writing full time.

Why not? I don’t have another full time job and I currently don’t have debt or pressing bills. (Though I don’t have a set place to live either…) Why not jump and become what I’ve always wanted to be?

I’m honestly not sure why I didn’t think of this before, but my brain is really that fried.

So I’ve decided to give it a shot. I’ve been trying for two days now. Not much, but it’s a start. I sit at my desk with the door locked and write. Just write. I turn off the internet and set timers. After the timer goes off, I can see where I am and take a break or just go back to writing.

So far, it’s worked.

And worked well.

I’ve doubled the word count in one of my stories. Granted, the story wasn’t very long yet. But hey! I still doubled the word count…

Today’s going to be harder because I have to go to work. I’m hoping my new routine will pay off in the end. Already it’s made me happier and feel more in place. I just hope it lasts.

I’m honestly scared of the commitment this decision has. It’s something I’ve wanted all my life, but when it’s in my reach I get scared. I’m not sure if I’m ready to commit completely yet to writing full time. Which is why I’m keeping my part time job and will continue applying to full time positions. Just not as though my life depends on it.

It’s going to be more difficult than I imagined partly because I don’t have a set place to call home. I’m at the house I grew up in now, but I’ve only been here twice in three weeks. I’ve been living out of a suitcase at either my boyfriend’s house or my mother’s the rest of the time. I’m worried about what kind of repercussions this will cause.

Wish me luck. Send me your prayers.

I really need it.