The problem with kidnapping...

I have a perfectly legitimate excuse for not posting this weekend. Christmas celebration Saturday, as well as an after-Christmas sale mall shopping trip. Sunday, church and babysitting for six hour straight. Boom! There you have it. So. I apologize and here I am, posting, albeit a day or two late.

So, this week I let Annabelle's dad "kidnap" her, which isn't as easy as it sounds. When your character never leaves her house and can't barely walk, and the kidnapper isn't actually planning on committing a kidnapping, it's awfully difficult to form a situation in which it actually happens. But, hey, I did it. And now there's the problem of getting her unkidnapped again, which is proposing a whole new set of problems.

Why did I even need to kidnap her in the first place, you might ask? Does this have any sort of relevancy to the basic plot? And, in theory, yes it does. Because through the whole story she's had two main fears. 1) of never getting over Lyme and 2) of her dad finding her. And in every story the character, during the climax, should face his/her greatest fears, correct? So, I'm planning (let's see if it works) to have her face both of those fears simultaneously, hence the reason why I've conducted a kidnapping. (Plus, it happened in the first draft. The one that occurred before I even added Lyme disease in.)

Now my problems are: 1) I can't rescue her too fast, or that part would be useless. 2) I don't know quite what her dad's motivations are (that's always a problem) 3) I want some sort of fairy-tale typical rescue, since that's a reoccurring theme throughout the book 3a) this is sort of a problem since no one knows where she is and she happens to be constantly getting farther away by the moment. Anyone have tips?

In any case, I've started writing this story again after several week's break. Wish me luck!

So behind

I'm so behind, so this is going to be short, so I can actually write. I'm just about to introduce God into my character's life, because she's getting discouraged and she won't have the strength to carry through the rest of the journey otherwise. So, this will be a lot of fun. I should be at 36,666 words today and I'm at 32,600. Pray that I get in my extra 4,000 words that I need. Wish me luck!

*cringe* this is 3-4 days late

Okay, so I'm the terriblest blogger ever. And yes, I's a writer and I's knows my grammar and my vocabulary, and terriblest is a word. (not really) I think I might be going just a little bit crazy. No seriously. Okay. Maybe not. But crazy people don't know they're crazy. I know I'm crazy, therefore, I'm not crazy. Isn't that crazy. (Jack Sparrow, anyone?)

Don't forget school,
homework and school.
Oh, and wait! School!

Ooooohhhhhh....I'm so tired. Guess what all decided to happen in the month of November. Thanksgiving and...wait for it...finals! Yay, right? Well, in all technicality finals aren't in November, but they are in the first week of December. Or is it the second? I don't know. I'm tired. In any case, I've got to be studying my butt off to make sure I actually pass them. I've got a four page paper due (I know it's not a lot, but I haven't even started on it and it's due next Monday. Heck, I don't even know hardly anything about my subject.) Biology has been taking up all my time. I'm supposed to have memorized 65 muscles by tomorrow. I was supposed to do them at the beginning of the semester and *ahemdon'ttellmyprofessor* I only know about half of them. It's not a problem of where they are. Oh, no that's easy. I've also got to memorize the technical name of where they insert on both ends, some of which have three or four each. And I've got to memorize what they do, which often also have three or four different answers. All that to say, I'm behind on my word count. I'm consistantly 3000-3500 words behind. For example, I have 3500 to get in one day. I do 2000. Okay, so I've got 1500 to do tomorrow. But wait, I've got an extra 1700 to write on top of that. So I'm now at 3200 the next day. It feels like I'm treading water and going nowhere.

Anyone struggle with procrastination?
Ooh, look I haven't blogged this week
like I'm supposed to. *ahem*

You might be able to easily tell I'm in the middle of NaNo. The part where you ramble on for pages on end just to meet your depleted word count. The part where you can't go back and edit, because you'll end up reading all 160 pages before you get to writing and who knows how long that will take. So...forgive me for my rambling.

I diagnosed my character finally. 120 pages into the novel, I finally diagnosed her. I have a feeling that half of my novel is going to have to be removed at the end of NaNo. I'm writing so many pointless scenes. My character also keep repeating herself with I-suppose-es and I-can't-seem-to-s
and I-wish-I-didn't-have-to-blah-s as well as way to many adjectives, -ly words and cliche descriptions like 'good' and 'nice.' It's getting on my nerves quite honestly.

The thing I'm struggling with most is coming up with plot points. In my interview with Bekah, she even told me, "Lyme disease is really boring." Think about it: you've lost mobility and you can't be around a lot of people. You can hardly even move. And that's my problem. I'm having trouble with making a interesting story out of this. B
ecause even if having the disease is boring, your readers can't be. And the story, itself, isn't boring at all, just the little in between parts. Like having to lay in bed for a month watching TV. Every scene is supposed to push your story forward in some way. Laying in bed isn't doing anything for the plot. A lot of it has to be dialogue and inner thoughts.

So, needless to say, this story is hard. I'm hoping to publish it once I'm done, though, so I'm pushing through. Because the point of this story is written to be read. I mean, most stories are, but this one more than others I've written. Because I'm writing it to make a difference and if no one can read it, there's no difference made. So...yeah. It's my battle. And I'm going to fight it bravely. Or maybe not so bravely. :)

Lastly, I need help: My character's dad needs to stalk her and eventually take her. I don't know what his motivation is, though. That's a problem, right? Could she maybe have seen him do something illegal that could send him back to jail so he's trying to make sure she doesn't call the police on him? If so, what could she catch him doing? Ideas anyone?

So, I'll let you go about your day. Pray for my sanity. :P

Understand

Sorry for that delay. I think part of my problem for this post is that it's so difficult to put in words what I'm feeling right now. A lot of you writers know this: that words are so inadequate to get a feeling across. But I'll try, so here goes...

I'm sure I'll never quite grasp the pain Bekah had to go through while battling Lyme. But I think I may be beginning to. I've intensively read most of her posts from the time of her diagnosis to the time of her healing and I've been putting my character into her situation. Now those insane writers out there know this, that characters are a part of your heart. Like your baby. Your word baby. So, putting her through this lets me grasp the pain and the heartache it took for Bekah to get through this. I'm drained from simply outlining this story and I haven't even started writing yet. I mean, I don't even know if I'd survive if I were put in her situation.

This is an amazing story and I just hope I end up telling it right. :)

I would suggest going to her blog, here, and reading her story.

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) starts at midnight tonight and I'm going to bed early (hopefully) and getting up at midnight to write like the wind. I'm ready to get all these stinkin' words out on the page. Wish me luck! :)

I'm going to try and figure out how to post a widget on the sidebar to track my progress as I enter it into NaNoWriMo.

Here's to NaNo!

Can't Kill Me

Pain

I’m gonna fight.

Pills for pain; pills to kill what’s killing me

Pain

I’m gonna fight

Inhaling hurts; exhaling hurts

Pain

I’m gonna fight

Can’t walk; can’t run; can’t barely eat

Pain

I’m gonna fight

I’m taking me back.

I’m gonna fight through the pain

Through the tears

Through the lonely

I’m gonna fight

Because it can’t kill me

Pain

Can’t kill me

Tears

Can’t kill me

Lonely

Can’t kill me

Pills

Can’t kill me

No matter how hard they try

Courage through pain

Finding me

Copyrighted to Hannah De

Sunsets and Fairytales: Guest post by Annabelle Greyson

I used to watch the sun set over the mountains from the window of my dad's bedroom. It was the only room that had a window that faced the mountains. I knew he would explode if he found me there, but I couldn't help the hope that rose up in me when I watched the colors undulate across the ridge. I'd watch until that last piece of sun sunk behind the stones on top of the mountains. It was magical. I wondered if somewhere out in that vast expanse of forest and rocks, was a prince charming out there who would save me. I'd go over in my mind what princess I'd be. It grounded me to repeat the procedure in my mind. It was something familiar. 

Sleeping Beauty was surrounded by a brier of thorns to keep out of evil. What would I have given for that kind of protection. 

Snow White was kind to everyone. I'd never been given the chance to be kind to everyone. No one was ever kind to me. Dad told me I was disobedient and in my mind that was the opposite of kind, so that discounted Snow White. 

Cinderella's father died. As cruel and gruesome as it sounded, I used to wish I had that kind of luck. 

Belle's father loved her. And she loved him. The only similarity was the dead mother. I used to fantasize that maybe I could be Belle, since our names are similar. Annabelle and Belle. It made sense. But all too soon, I realized that my life was nothing like Belle's. Plus, she was beautiful, and all I heard every day was that I was ugly. 

I wished I had the courage to be the mermaid who ran away from her father and found the love of her life. She was who I aspired to, but never really thought I'd become. 

Rapunzel was the one I finally settled on every time. Because Rapunzel was trapped. Because Rapunzel had no way out of her life. And maybe someday I would get my wish. Maybe someday a prince would come and fall in love with me and rescue me. 

Sometimes I still do that, watch the mountains, while I'm too sick to move. I pull the hope out of that sight, even if I don't know where that hope comes from. I repeat the procedure in my mind. In some ways I still am trapped, but someone once told me to focus on the future and not dwell on the fact that I can't walk and that my Lyme keeps me from doing most things. I think of things I'm thankful for: 

- inspiration to write

- Brenden - my prince :) 

- my mom

- church - even if I don't believe in God yet, that place always gives me peace when my anxiety gets the better of me. 

- blogging

- fairy tales

I make the list longer and longer and push out the things that make me panic. It's going to be okay. 

 Brenden gave me a plaques saying this for Christmas one year and I hold onto it... Never too late.

This life would kill me if I didn't have you. Couldn't live without you, baby. Wouldn't want to.                                                                                                                                                                                        If I didn't have You by: Thompson Square

~ Annabelle Greyson

Note: These ideas are copyrighted to Hannah De. Thanks!

Guest Post from Annabelle Grayson

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Annabelle. She was born out of wedlock and although her parents stayed together for the first few years of her life, she always had a sense of not belonging. Like she wasn't supposed to be on this earth. It didn't help that her parents fought constantly. Over her father's drinking problem. Over the fact that her mother was attending college, even though both of them knew they didn't have the money. Over Annabelle - what school she'd go to when she was old enough, what she should be when she grew up, who would get her when her mother finally made good on her threat and left. And it wasn't as if both of them wanted her. Neither of them wanted the burden of a five-year-old girl as they continued on with their respective lives.

Her mother finally left, leaving Annabelle with an angry, alcoholic father. Although he had never expressed violence, the anger of his girlfriend leaving him pushed him into worse and he began to beat her. Sometimes it would be days between beatings, and other times he would hit her twice in a day. There would be days he hit her so hard she threw up. There would be days she had to call someone to take her to the hospital because he broke something inside her. There would be days when she didn't think she was going to make it.

She began to panic. Every time she thought of him, her heart rate would speed, the room would close and she would begin to cry. Every time he opened the door and slurred her name. Every time someone asked her about her family. She didn't dare tell anyone what was happening. She didn't want to discover what he would do to her if she turned him in.

It was a teacher who gave her the idea. She made an offhand comment of how stories helped some people process life. And Annabelle wondered if that would change the panic attacks she kept having. Her only real example of stories was a collection of old fairy tales her mother had left, so she began to make up her own, making herself the princess, her problems the dragons and her life an enchanted fairy-world where she could invent princes and fairy-godmothers to save her from whatever means she invented.

She made her princess-self the opposite of the names her father called her, names she knew were true. The princess wasn't worthless or ugly or a coward. She was a beautiful, brave girl who could do whatever she put her mind to.

And it worked. She stopped panicking. Her problems were manageable.

She was nine before anything happened. Her rescue came in the form of her new neighbor, a middle-aged man, who was the first one to care about the screaming and shouting he heard from the run-down apartment. He pulled Annabelle aside on her way to school and asked her if everything was okay at home. Annabelle hesitated, remembering the way her father threatened her on the subject of getting help. He would never need to know it was her though. There wasn't any way he could hurt her if he was arrested. So she told the man and whispered for him to please call the police, but to not breathe a word about getting the information from her.

She was pulled out of school early by two police officers and her father was arrested that afternoon. But right before he was shoved into the police car he gave her a look that said that he wasn't done with her and that he would get her back no matter what. The authorities found her mother and Annabelle moved in with her.

So, this part of my story really isn't worth telling, but the author of my story wanted me to write a post concerning my backstory. And don't worry. There's more. And there's hope in the end. It wasn't easy writing this. That's why it's in fairy tale format. It's still the only way I can handle things. Even now, seven years after his arrest. Sorry about that. Feel free to comment.

~Annabelle Greyson

Author's note: All the ideas here are copyrighted to Hannah De

Dancing

So, I'm on chapter six of this crazy rewrite and loving it all the more. Just about to get to the part where Annabelle gets worse all the sudden. I'm loving this book so much more than any of my other books, so...that's good, right?

Also, good news: I got permission to use all the unique parts of Bekah's story. So it'll be a halfway based-on-a-true-story story with those little unique details.

Since everything is going smoothly and as planned, I don't have a lot to say. So, I'm going to leave you with a poem my character wrote.

I Just Want to Dance by: Annabelle Greyson

My knees give way
My legs are weak
Will you hold me?
Can you help me through?

Because although
my body protests,
I just
want to
dance.