We're all gonna die! (Or the Armageddon Alphabet) #atozchallenge

Hello, beautiful people!

I think it's safe to say that I failed on 30 Days of Fade. I'm sorry for that. Sometimes, life throws you curveballs and you just can't keep up. That said, I've learned absolutely nothing from my failure and have been talked into doing the A to Z challenge in April!

"The wha?" you ask.




The A to Z Challenge


The A to Z Challenge. Every day in April (excluding every Sunday except the 1st), participants write a post on a topic that surrounds a specific letter of the alphabet. The 1st we'll write posts centered around the letter A or on A words. The 2nd, we do B, and so on and so forth until we've made it through the entire alphabet.

But wait! Because I'm an action-movie loving, giant-death-cloud cheering, potentially insane but still-kinda-freaking-loveable person, I've decided to take it a step further and center the entire challenge around...

*insert mysterious music here*

End-of-the-world scenarios.

Yep! We're talking armageddon scenarios all month long, and we're doing it by letter. It's the Armageddon Alphabet!

I'm not telling you in advance what scenarios we'll be discussing, but you can expect each scenario to begin with the corresponding letter. On the 1st, our scenario will be an A letter, on the 2nd it'll be a B, and so on and so forth until we've made it through the alphabet and you have 26 new ways you don't wanna die, in alphabetical order.

You can sign on to join our crazy quest here, or just check back all month long for my Armageddon Alphabet posts. They'll be marked as #atozchallenge in the title so they're easily found.

Easy enough, yes?

I thought so!

And don't forget! I'll be participating in the Hoppy Easter Blog Hop April 6th through 8th, and one lucky commenter will win an ebook copy of Fade upon release. Yay, right?!

smooches and smooshes,

A.K.M. 

You're not a writer

The Husbinator and I sat down and watched the first part of Stephen King's Bag of Bones tonight. It's about a popular author being haunted by the ghost of a blue's singer when he relocates after the death of his wife. He's been struggling with writer's block since his wife died, and at one point in the movie, he gets so frustrated that he screams at the laptop, "Just give me something!".

As soon as he screamed, The Husbinator gave me one of those, "I know you can relate to that feeling" looks. You see, The Husbinator knows that I'm having the same problem. I've been having the same problem for the last year.

When I got sick last January, a lot changed in my life. I went from sleeping 4 or 5 hours a night, to sleeping 9 or 10 and still being tired. I went from remembering exactly what the entire family had to do and when, to writing down everything just to remember my own schedule. I also went from writing every single day, to being lucky if I can find words once a week.

In the last year, I've had to face the reality that there just isn't such a thing as getting back to normal. Once normal is gone, it's gone. You can't get back to life just as it was "before" because life has changed. Whatever dragged you off course can't be tucked into a back corner and forgotten completely because, like it or not, it's still there, and it still happened.

For me, facing reality has meant sacrificing what I want for what I need. I learned that in a big way in October. I was so tired of walking when I wanted to run that I pushed myself too hard, and I paid for it. I ended up being rushed to the emergency room unconscious. I'd exhausted myself trying to do too much, and when a bad migraine hit, my body just couldn't handle it with everything else it was fighting. It scared the crap out of my friends and family, and forced me to wake up and realize that what I want can't always come first.

I want to sit down every day and write a thousand words. But I can't do that because what I need is a little brown pill that keeps me healthy at the expense of my cognitive and psychomotor function. That's meant a lot of changes in my life in the last year.

No matter how much I sleep now, I still tire easily. I can't sit down to write, get interrupted, and pick up right where I left off anymore. Nor can I sit down to write, and write three thousand words with ease. I forget a lot. I make mistakes like pouring carpet cleaning solution into the washer instead of laundry detergent, or writing the same sentence three times in a row. I can't remember certain words without looking them up, and I have to plot everything in detail. I have to concentrate hard on simple tasks like walking some days, and I still stumble and mess them up. I want to say things sometimes, but when I open my mouth, nothing at all comes out, or it comes out sounding like gibberish. I wake up in the middle of the night with a great idea, only to fall back to sleep against my will. When I wake up again, the idea is gone.

It's frustrating, and there have been plenty of times where I've wanted to scream at my brain to "just give me something." There have been times when I've gotten so frustrated because the words were right there that I have yelled at the computer, or tossed my pen across the room.There have been days where I've cried because nothing at all would come out when I opened my mouth to speak.

I don't read as much now as I did then, because I can't concentrate on the story as easily, or remember what I've read when I have to put it down for a while. And I don't write as much anymore either. In fact, I don't write much anymore. I sit down every day to write, but more often than not, I spend that time staring at a blank page.

The last year has been a lesson in patience and acceptance. I've had to learn entirely new ways of doing things. I've had to face the reality that I have limits, and that those limits are a lot more restricting now than they were a year ago.

I've not always learned those lessons or faced that reality gracefully. My brain doesn't work quite as well now as it did before, and that frustrates me. It makes me feel weak, and that frustrates me, too.

There have been times when I've wanted to throw my hands up and give up. A little niggling voice likes to ask how I can possibly call myself a writer when I can't even write most days. On particularly bad days, I have no answer to that question. I think, "You’re right. I should just give up and spare myself the frustration."

But the thing is, even on particularly bad days, I'm still me. I'm still the girl who talks too much, giggles a lot, and likes it when things explode. I'm still the girl who believes elves make all the cool stuff, and dragonflies are really fairy taxis. And I'm still the girl who loves the way it feels to sit down and coax the story that's whispering around in my mind out into the open.

It may take longer now, and it may not always go so well. I may spend more time looking up words than writing them anymore, and half of what I write may be destined for a dusty corner labeled "Never Publish", but I'm still a writer, and I'll only stop being a writer when I choose to stop writing.

That hasn't happened yet, and I doubt that it will because, no matter how frustrating it is to sit down and realize that the words just won't come, the days when they do come are just too homey and comfortable. Those days make the others worth it. They also remind me that practice makes perfect.

No one sits down and writes a perfect novel on the first attempt. Most don't even write one on the second or third or fourth attempt. And that's okay. None of us are writers because we write novels or even because we write every day. We're writers because we can't imagine not writing. Whether the words come easily, or we find ourselves fighting for every single one, we're still writers. And we'll keep being writers because, even on particularly bad days when that little niggling voice whispers the loudest, we still find ourselves sitting down to try again.

There will be days when no words come, or when every word that comes is awful. That's part of what makes writing so rewarding. So whether you're writing today or you're cursing a blank screen for the eighth day in a row, you're still a writer.

It may not be easy, but it is worth it, and you can do it.

And so can I.

My name is Ayden, and I'm on day eighteen.

Goonies never say die,

A.K.M. 

Trayvon Martin and the Reality of YA Novels

I could tell you the entire story of what I've been doing that's kept me from blogging in the last few days, but it's a long and involved story, so we're going to skip right over that for the moment. In what little free-time I've had lately, I've been following the Trayvon Martin case closely. It's heartbreaking.

For those not familiar with the case, in late February, seventeen-year-old Martin was shot and killed after leaving a convenience store. The twenty-eight year old man who shot him, George Zimmerman, claims the shooting was self-defense.

Martin's girlfriend, who was on the phone with him immediately before the shooting, says that's not true. Martin was trying to get away from Zimmerman when he realized that Zimmerman was following him. When he ran, Zimmerman followed him and a confrontation ensued. Martin was unarmed, and was eventually shot by Zimmerman during the course of the confrontation.

There has been a lot of coverage on the case, and a lot of controversy surrounding the case because of Zimmerman's self defense claim. A lot of people are arguing that it's not legal to use deadly force against an unarmed individual. That's not true, at least not in Florida. In Florida, the Stand Your Ground law allows you to use deadly force to protect yourself if you feel that you (or someone else) are in imminent danger of serious harm. It doesn't matter if the individual you fear has a weapon or not.

So, the question has become less if Zimmerman had a right to use deadly force, and more if it was really self defense.

Personally, I can see both sides of the issue here. If I'm being chased by someone I don't know, I'm going to be scared. If that individual then approaches me, I'm probably not going to be particularly reasonable when it comes to listening to his rationale for following me, or to anything else he has to say. I'm going to do what I need to do to get away...just like I was taught to do by every single case that ends with someone just like me being kidnapped or robbed in just such a situation.

At the same time though, we've got Zimmerman in a similar situation. He thinks he’s following a suspicious person up to no good. Adrenaline is already high, and then Martin runs, confirming in Zimmerman’s mind that he’s guilty of something. If he then catches up to Martin, already fearing that Martin is a criminal, and Martin takes a swing, fearing that Zimmerman means him harm, the situation can quickly spiral into what we’ve seen in this case.

Neither Martin nor Zimmerman was in a mind-set conducive to rational decision-making, and a tragedy occurred as a result. Whether Zimmerman is eventually charged with the murder or not, it's a sad situation that could have been prevented had Zimmerman simply not pursued Martin when he ran. But hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?   

This case, and the real life situation that's pulled me away from blogging in the last few days, has had me thinking a lot about the realities of being a teenager and how that plays out in young adult fiction.

We see a lot of love triangles and bullying in popular young adult novels, but at first glance, we don't see a lot of issues like this in those same novels. That is to say, you're probably not going to find ordinary teen Trayvon Martin getting shot and killed by ordinary adult George Zimmerman in the pages of a popular young adult novel.

Look deeper though, and you will find a slew of popular YA novels peppered with similar situations that play out in subtle and unique ways. In Harry Potter, for instance, Harry deals with evil deeds (including murder) perpetrated by adults, as well as the resultant community backlash and fear. He and his friends also deal with racism in the form of the hatred of mudbloods and muggles that Voldemort’s followers display. In the Mortal Instruments series, Clary deals with parental abuse (verbal and mental abuse at the very least) and murder committed by her father, while Jace deals with manipulation by an adult. In the Hush, Hush series, Nora deals with the consequences of her parents’ lies, the murder of her father, and parental abuse. In Twilight, Bella deals with the manipulation and machinations of Jacob, teen pregnancy, and physical abuse and torture. In Shiver, Grace deals with the consequences of neglect at the hands of her parents.

Each of these novels is steeped in extraordinary circumstances, but at the heart of each is a grim or tragic situation that’s not that much different than the frightening things young adults see and experience now. Whether it’s losing a friend in a shooting, watching a young friend become a parent, or dealing with racism, abuse, or sexual assault, popular YA novels deal with the grim realities of life in spades. They just do it a little differently.

That’s one of the things that draw a lot of readers my age to YA novels: they deal with reality in unique ways.

I’m twenty-eight. I have no clue what it’s like to be thirty-five, a single parent, and trying to juggle a new relationship, a kid, and a career. I just finished grad school. I have no clue what it’s like to have a career threatened by some villain, or to be in charge of a multi-million dollar corporation. Or to be divorced, take care of ailing parents, or find out my husband’s become embroiled in a scandalous affair. But I do know what it’s like to be fourteen and find out a friend has been murdered, or to be fifteen and hear that a friend is going to prison for murder. I know what it’s like to deal with the issues teens in YA novels face because, if I haven’t been there, I know someone who has. And I don’t need these situations to be blatant or in your face to understand them. I can pick up any newspaper, any day of the week, and find that. So can any teen.

YA may deal with the same situations we see on the news every day, but the authors do it in just the right way to keep teens (and readers like me) engaged. Their stories blend reality with imagination in a way that gives you the people and situations you know, but the HEA you crave. So we may never see Trayvon Martin’s heartbreaking story in a bestselling YA novel, but we will certainly see teens like Trayvon Martin facing difficult decisions and life-changing situations, because those are the teens we know, and the situations they face. And, I think, because those are the teens we wish had been given a real-life HEA. 

But then again, that might just be me. ;)  

Your ever-hopeful author,

A.K.M.

For every question, there is a story.

The Husbinator and I just watched The Bang Bang Club (worth watching, by the way), and it got me to thinking about photographs and something Henry David Thoreau said.

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."  ~Henry David Thoreau

Photographs are incredibly inspiring to me, so they often play an important role in my writing. You can bet that if there's a story, there's a photograph, or a piece of art, that brought it to life in my mind.

I don't know a whole lot about art though, so writing has become something of a learning process for me. Instead of going for an obvious painting or photograph when I need a little inspiration, I like to spend a little time looking through photographs or art to see what sparks the imagination. I've come across some really amazing art and photographs as a result of those forrays.

I found this painting (below) a couple of years ago during research for Fade, and fell in love with it. Ari is a history lover, and when I saw this, I just knew it was something that would capture her interest, too. It has a very mysterious, reverent feel to it, I think. She mentions it in a playful manner, but the feel of the painting fits what she's talking about, even so. At least, I think it does. :)



Anasazi Noble Spirit Guardian by Kendall Davenport


As far as photographs go, I have a tendency to save or bookmark any that capture my imagination, so I have about a million that I absolutely adore. One of my favorite things about my friends is how often they send me pictures, too. Every time they come across one that reminds them of me or that they think I would like, they send it my way. It works out well. :)

My favorites are always the sadder or somber photographs and images. I think that's because they're always the one's that have a story behind them. With those photographs, as Thoreau said, it's not what we're looking at that matters, but what we're seeing.  

In Just Married, Ashton's character's father says something that, paraphrased, means life is what happens between the happy photographs. I think that is very true. A happy ending in a book or movie, for instance, is always that much sweeter when the characters have had to fight for it. Sad or reflective photographs capture the moments that get us to that happy ending. They're also the ones that allow us to relate to others.

We might never know, for instance, what it feels like to win an Academy Award, dance on Broadway, or skydive over the desert, but we do know what it's like to fight for our dreams, to have bad days, or to be a little sad at times. The images that capture those moments speak to us, because we can relate, and we want to know more. Why is he crying? Who's eyes are we seeing that tree from? What is that wolf thinking? What drove her to that point? How is he going to overcome whatever it is that got him there?

We see a world of possibilities in those photographs because there is a question lurking in there somewhere, begging to be answered. The story that answers that question may be sad, triumphant, bitter, or bittersweet. There's a million things it may be if we look deeply enough, and even if none of them ever come close to the reality of the image, we still walk away feeling as if we've related to the subject in some small way.

That's inspiring, don't you think?

This one, by Jimmy Carroll, makes me so sad.



This one makes me sad, too. I want to hug him.

I love this one.

Very somber.

Inspiration is all around us, every day. Where does yours come from?

xoxo,

A.K.M.

Breathe Green

Everything is starting to bloom here, and Little Rock is a riot of green. When the wind blows, cottonwood blooms twirl around like little spring snowflakes, and cover everything in sight. The smell of spring is definitely in the air. So is pollen. And by pollen in the air, I mean OMG, I can't breathe without choking on the stuff. My poor cherry red car is this horrid yellowish green color now, as is my driveway, the roads, storefront windows, my balcony, etc.

Spring in the South always sounds so much nicer on paper and television than it is in reality. Don't get me wrong, it's absolutely beautiful here this time of year. The trees are bursting into life again all over the city. We live in an apartment overlooking the river, the valley, and downtown Little Rock, and it's amazing to step outside when spring takes hold and look around. Where everything was bare just a month ago, it's now bright, lush green for miles. The state capital is this bright white spot in a sea of green now. I just love that.

The Keeper of the Cheerios, the mom, the kiddos, and I spent most of the day outside today, celebrating the green. We roasted hot dogs and s'mores over the bonfire, and watched the kiddos attempt to shoot apples off of their grandfather's head with little plastic arrows... and a golf club. Because that's how we Arkansans roll. ;)  

And, well, because I'm still suffering from neurosurgeon induced sobriety, and no one in my family has ever been much for drinking, anyway. Given the golf club-apple incident, that's probably a good thing. We get up to enough mischief without raising a pint to toast the Patron Saint of Ireland.

Either way, I think he'd approve of our celebration today. We certainly breathed green today, and isn't that what the day's about, anyway?

We stopped in Beebe this afternoon, and I'm happy to report that it, too, is celebrating the green. The town is a riot of spring color, as are the miles and miles of trees that spread out around the town. It's quite lovely, and I think our wayward hero and heroine would highly approve. It reminded me of how excited I am to get back to work on Fall after my weekend with the kiddos ends tomorrow.

xoxo, 

A.K.M.

P.S.: Happy 21st birthday, Shay! I hope it has been completely amazing for you!