Moving

So, I really can't stand the new Blogger and I'm tired of the issues I'm having here as well, so I am moving my blog. My new address is:

http://jesimarie.wordpress.com

I look forward to seeing you all there!!

Dear Blogger,

Dear Blogger,

I've been putting this off for a while now, but not you've forced it on me. This new look of yours... to put it bluntly, it's ugly. I don't like how it looks, it's not streamlined. It's just ugly. Please let me have the old look back. Please. I don't like this at all! :(

In other news, I hear that people may be having problems commenting on my blog. My dad said he tried posting twice and it didn't work. I'm going to see what I can do about this.

Laters!

Editing

Editing can suck. It can suck a lot to have to go through your manuscript and cut out chunks of what you wrote, chunks of what you think may be the best shizz in the whole damn book. But if it doesn't fit, it must go.

When my dad writes his stories, he always makes sure to write 10% more in word count than what he wants it to be in the end, because he says there some equation out there that says when you edit, you're supposed to lose 10% of your word count. For reasons of having wordy sentences, chunks that don't belong, extra words, etc.

I've never subscribed to that. How does taking stuff out make something better? Also, with the way I write, I don't put in things that don't help the story in some way. 

Back when I first did NaNo, I went into the plot help section and found the dares. For those of you who don't know what the dare are, it's like a real dare, but you have to put something into your story. Like one of the dares I took was to have a reference to Romeo and Juliet and how the two lovers would meet up a few times then kill themselves (I don't have the exact dare, for some reason). Hell, I had a whole damn list of these, but I wouldn't use them unless I could work it into the story.

Here's my excerpt for the Romeo and Juliet line. Keep in mind, this is four years old and never been edited. There's also a warning for language. (A little info: Carrighan is an Angel of Hell, well known Angel killer, and Lucifer's former best friend. Demetrios is an Angel who was sent to Earth to kill Carrighan, even though Deme has been in love with Carrighan since before Lucifer and his followers were banished from Heaven. They struck up a deal that Carrighan would give Deme insider information from Hell and Deme would let Carrighan live in peace).

“Kill me, Carrighan,” he said with sorrow in his voice. “If it’s what you want then kill me! If this is all you want from me then take it and let me be! But don’t tell me you can’t because I know you can!”

His voice was beginning to crack as he spoke and tears ran his face, mixing with the continuing rain.

Carrighan shook his head, backing away until he hit the house, pressing against it. “I can’t Demetrios!”

Thunder broke the sky as the Angel yelled “Do it!” The resolution of his decision was on his face along with the sorrow.

Carrighan couldn’t take looking at him any longer and another wave of anger poured through him, this time at himself for not doing something about this. He grabbed Deme by the shirt and pulled him close bringing the knife to his neck and pushing his head back. He stared at the one in front of him, his heart racing his anger melting away and turning to self-hatred and guilt as he did this.

 “I can’t do it because… I love you…” he let the Angel go as his hands fell to his sides, the knife hitting the ground.

Deme stared at him with a mirrored confused expression.

“I… love you” he whispered, the confession lifting his heart but sent a whole new wave of terror through him. He couldn’t love an Angel, that’s impossible, it couldn’t happen! And he wouldn’t allow it. His wings spread and he took to the air flying over Deme’s head and taking off into the trees.

Deme turned on his heel after a moment and took off after him.

“Carrighan!” he called after the dark winged one ahead of him.

The other man didn’t slow at all. The winds changed and pushed Carrighan back from where he was trying to go, though he had no destination in mind.

He just wanted to get away from Deme.

“No! No! No! No! No!!” he whined but the winds were too strong. He fell to the ground, landing on his knees. His wings fell around him and he looked down, hair hanging in his face.

“Carrighan…” Deme approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why are you running from me? If what you say if true then…”

“Then what? Huh?!” He lifted his head and looked at the Angel some emotion in his eyes but it was undecipherable.

“Well… we can be like Romeo and Juliet.”

Carrighan scoffed. “What? We meet a few times then kill ourselves! That sounds like some great fucking plan, Juliet!”

Deme shook his head. “No, I meant in the star crossed lovers way without the whole death thing. We’ll just live our lives together.”

“No,” Carrighan tore his gaze from the face of the man he… he loved. “It’s not going to happen.”

He stood up and turned to stare at the other one, his eyes in slits.

“I will not going down as a fucking Angel lover!! I hate Angels and of all the fucking goody two shoe God loving fuckers I hate you the most!”

He was breathing heavily as his eyes opened to their regular size.

“No… I don’t hate you” he whispered once he saw the hurt look on the Angel’s face. “But I can’t love you. I can’t; I never should have started this stupid thing. If… If I had just told Lucifer to fuck himself I wouldn’t be in this mess with you. I could be living my life the way I want to not… not depending on love from you! You of all people in this fucking world!”

He had backed away.

“I… I have to go. Don’t come find me and don’t come after me.”

 Guh, I love these guys! But that's beside the point. I made the whole Romeo and Juliet thing mesh in with the scene. There was also a dare about going to an amusement park, that I made a HUGE part of the plot.

I don't word fluff. I put in what needs to be put in there, so to think that I have to cut 10%... that's just stupid.

I actually amazed my dad when I ADDED almost 2,000 words to my first draft of The Doc Is In. And I think I still added more to it when I did the next draft.

So maybe editing isn't as bad as it could be, because sure, I'm making it better, but it's still a pain in the ass, lol.

I had something else I was going to say, but I forgot while going through that old manuscript of mine and falling in love again with my Deme and Carri.

How do you guys feel about editing? Do you adhere to the whole "take out 10%" thing? How does that make you feel, whether you do it or not?

Laters!

Until The End

It's been a while but... I've finally written something again. It's a short story that nearly made me cry.

I've written a story like this before, where Mikey, my Michael Dove, dies. I've always had it set that he was going to die just days before he turns 30 and that his final words are "Zachary, you moron" as Zack holds him as he dies. Well, I've fleshed it out a bit more, since my bff, who created Zack, made Zack's best friend an FBI agent.

So, to give you a little cap, Bill's real name is Rafael and he's an FBI agent. Michael Dove, aka Mikey, is a hit man and Zack, aka Zachary, is a hit man in training being trained by Mikey. Mikey and Zack are in love, though it's kept secret. Not going to go over their whole story, too much to put down.

Any ways, here we go! My story!

"Mikey, don't make me do it!" 

"My name is Michael, Rafael. Or should I call you Bill?" 

Bill's hands shook as he held the gun up. "Mikey, just put the gun down and come with me. Please. I don't want to shoot you." 

Michael straightened up, wincing as the pain from the bullet in his side shot through his body. The gun fight with Bill’s partner had left him wounded. But if Michael looked bad, the dead partner looked worse. 

"You won't shoot me. You lack the conviction to do it," Michael said with a smirk. 

Bill wiped sweat from his brow with his free hand. "Mikey..." 

"My name is Michael!" 

Bill visibly jumped as the door slammed open. Michael barely turned his head.

"Drop it, blondie!!" Zack yelled, gun raised and aimed at the offender. 

Bill, already on edge, spun. 

Michael never moved quicker, but as the explosion of the gun filled the room, all he could think about was protecting Zachary. He gasped as the searing hot bullet hit him, a new pain slamming through his body. 

"Mikey!" Zack yelled .His gun clattered on the ground as his arms wrapped around Michael’s torso to keep the man from falling. “What did you do, Bill?!”

“Zack I… I didn’t mean to!" 

Zack could feel the sticky warmth soaking through his sleeves as he sank to the floor, Michael held against him. 

"Mikey, Mikey please..." 

Michael's breath was shaky at best and not getting any better. 

"Zachary..." he managed. 

"No, no, don't talk, Mikey. Bill, call 9-1-1, god damn it! Call for help!" 

Michael shook his head as Bill fumbled for his cell phone. 

"No, Mikey, don't go, please! God, no!" His voice cracked. Tears were spilling down his cheeks and there was nothing he could do to stop them. 

Michael's head fell back against Zack's chest. His skin was pale and his eyes were distant. 

For a moment, they focused on Zack’s face and a faint smile formed on his lips. It was quickly gone and replaced with a scowl. "Zachary... you moron..." 

His lower lip shuddered as his last breath left him. 

"Mikey!" Zack cried, burying his face in the other’s dark brown hair. “You killed him, Bill! You killed Mikey!” 

Bill slowly back up, hands raised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt him…” 

Zack glared at what he thought was his best friend. “I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of here. If you’re still here, then I can’t be held responsible for what I do.” 

Bill nodded and was gone. 

--- 

The week passed like a blur. The funeral was like a movie on mute. Zack barely registered the thirteen year old boy stand by his side, shaking slightly with tears; the older man leaning heavily on his cane, the scar over his eye looking more vicious as no emotion passed on his face. 

The black coffin hovering over the hole was a simple black casket. It suited Mikey’s tastes. Zack had seen to that much. The rest of it he left to Kostya. 

He ditched out on the wake afterwards. He wasn’t that hungry anyways. And he had other things to do.

It was a short drive to the apartment he knew well. He’d first come here years ago, back in high school when he first met Bill’s older brother, who wasn’t really his brother, just some other agent there for the case. Who then left for college or something like that. The memories were bitter sweet. 

He found the door unlocked and entered quietly. Boxes were scattered around, things half thrown in them, half spilt on the floor. Bill had been in a hurry to leave. Had he been trained by any less of a hit man, Zack would have assumed Bill had left already, but he knew better. He’d seen that blonde mop poke out behind a tree at the funeral.

He was still here. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The voice almost startled Zack. He turned towards it origin and saw a few blonde curls sticking up over the top of a high backed chair. 

“I can tell. You didn’t even finish backing, dude.” He was surprised by how flat his voice was. Had he really come that far? 

Bill chuckled faintly. It was a sad sound and caused Zack’s heart to ache father. 

“I didn’t see the point.” 

“Why didn’t you run?” 

The curls shook. “You’d come find me. Might as well face it head on.” 

Zack took a few steps towards the chair. 

“I’m sorry, Zack. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.” 

He froze, fingers wrapped around the cold steel of the gun. “Don’t say that, Bill.” 

“But it’s true…” 

“I don’t want to hear it!” he barked, a new wave of tears breaking forth. “You killed the man I loved! You’re my best friend! I shouldn’t be… I shouldn’t be here doing this right now. We should be… we should be out skateboarding or something, man!” 

The room fell into silence. 

Zack shook, trying to pull himself together. He couldn’t afford to get all emotional, that was how mistakes were made. That was what Mikey always said, anyways. 

“I killed him,” Bill said in a dead pan. “I killed Michael Dove, one of the best hit men in the world.” 

Was his voice shaking? Or was that just Zack’s ear drums? 

“My name is going to be everywhere. I’m going to be a hero.” 

“Shut up!” 

“I’ll be all over the news, Zack. They’ll praise me!” 

“I said shut up!”

“I killed him, Zack!” 

There was pain in Bill’s voice. Some part of Zack’s brain picked up on it. Bill wasn’t gloating. He was trying to make it easier on him. 

“I shot Michael Dove!” 

The quiet hissing of the silencer was the last thing Bill would hear. Zack shook, the gun still aimed at where his best friend’s head had just been. He’d just killed his best friend. 

He pulled the gun back and placed it back in its holster. 

“Good bye, Bill.” He turned and left, locking the door behind him.

And... end. I like it. I didn't edit it or anything. Just went with it. *sniffles*

Let me know what you think!

Laters!

I Can't

Weight loss is hard. Writing is hard. As I'm prone to seeing, "if it were easy, everyone would do it." And it's true.

But I've learned some things, sitting here, staring at the blinking black line of the page, examining my life as I wait for something to strike me.

I've learned that I can't do either of these things for someone else. I have to do them for me.

In the past, I've tried writing for other people. And I've done good with it. Writing for pay (Gaia gold, to be specific) worked nicely for me. I improved my writing. I became better at my craft while writing for others. Being pressed into writing because people think you can't stick to it, well, that's just a stupid thing to write for. I have to write for me.

Just like with weight loss. I can't do it for a future lover (because if they love me, they'll love me for everything I am, plus size or not). I can't do it for a friend. I can't do it for my mom. I have to do it for me. I have to want it for me and me alone.

I've always heard that "I can't" is a phrase you should never use. But sometimes, you have to. Because sometimes you can't. There is no changing it to "I can write for other people and not for myself." Writing doesn't work that way.

What are some other things you can't do? (keep it a positive can't. Or even a 'I can't whistle' works, lol)


Laters!


PS, if you're interested, I have a second blog about costuming and cosplay. Check it out! Costume Me

I am very proud of myself

This post has NOTHING to do with writing or stories or anything, but I feel very good about myself today.

Since February, I have lost almost 20 pounds and have gone down about 2 pant sizes.

Feels totally awesome :D

Just felt like sharing.

Better Than Thou, I laugh at you, hahahaha!

warning: the following post is kind of jarbled, because I came into this post with an abstract idea but no real plot to it. It turns into a bit of a rant, too. It's also full of gifs and videos and such. Move forward at your own risk.


Throughout everything and every where there are always people who think they're better than someone else. Or they're just gunna straight up hate.

found on tumblr

And the best you can do is sit there and laugh. I mean really, half the shit people say is ridiculous. Stephenie Meyer said of Anne Rice and any other vampire writer out there: "...I can't read other people's vampires. If it's too close [to my writing], I get upset; if it's too far away, I get upset. It just makes me very neurotic...I've seen little pieces of Interview with a Vampire when it was on TV, but I kind of always go YUCK!" (got this from Alice Marvels, I do believe. I don't remember, I had to find it in an email I sent to my friends). Oh boo hoo, other people write vampires and they're too similar/different! I'm sorry but, this is just drivel. And of course, Anne Rice came back with something more eloquent: "Lestat and Louie feel sorry for vampires that sparkle in the sun. They would never hurt immortals who choose to spend eternity going to high school over and over again in a small town ---- anymore than they would hurt the physically disabled or the mentally challenged. My vampires possess gravitas. They can afford to be merciful."

But everyone's hit the twihate bandwagon at some point. Save for the twitards, which then was a hate on the twihaters wagon. But it's all hate!

again, found on tumblr

But it's not always people hating on books/writers. Like Squidward hates Sponge Bob.

more tumblr

And Sponge Bob is only his really annoying neighbor (I can understand his point of view, though! lol).

Some people just think they're so high and mighty that it's laughable, cause you can see through the paper thin argument.

But this post isn't about why haters hate, 'cause we all know that they do. And there's no real explaining it. Because usually it's just a pointless way for people to try and feel better 'bout themselves.

tumblr

No, this is about what you do when those haters hate on you.

Haters can be random people we don't know, like the anons on tumblr (for those of you who don't know, there are people on tumblr who like to go around and send anonymous messages to people telling them they suck, they're ugly, they should kill themselves, and much more gruesome things). Then there are people we do know, like co-workers or customers who come in a lot. And there are those who are/were close to us who do it (I've heard of people whoa re still friends with people who hate on them, god knows why though. I've even heard of people's PARENTS being their haters, da fuq?).

No matter how self confident you are, no matter how much you can laugh things off, no matter how many times you chant that sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you, they still hurt. And depending on how close that hater is or was, it may take longer to get over.

Personally, this is my take on it:

do I really have to say where I found this one?

People come, people go, the pain won't last forever. And that's why there's no point it gettin' all upset over it. They're good for a laugh. And you have to remember that they're just jealous of what you got.  You are better then all them haters out there. Haters are going to rip on you left and right, because you can't make everyone happy. Someone is always going to be upset. Always. You don't live your life the way they are? Ooo, you're such a child, you need to grow the fuck up! Hell, I am a child, let me live my life my way while I still have the chance to be young. Or maybe you're not their idea of skinny. Fuck it, enjoy that donut! And make sure their mouth is watering as you orgasmicly eat that donut! You are you, there is no better you out there!

Be proud of who you are, and those haters out there, all they can do is fuel your drive. You must be doing something right if they're so damn upset!

source

So, to any of my haters out there, I am better than this. I am better than you. Obviously I'm doing something to piss you off, and good! I enjoy my life, I enjoy the way I'm living, 'cause this is the only life I'm going to remember living (unless I come back as the Dalai Lama, which I highly doubt). You have a problem with it, good for you. I'll live my way, childish or not, and you live your way, as old as it makes you. I'm 23! I am a child! And I'm not in any rush to grow up! I have my goals and ambitions, and I am working towards those faster than you even know. You have no idea. You can't even fathom.

I have a connection with an agent, I have a connection with a costume designer, both of which really, really want to help me. What have you got?

Keep trying to bring me down, I will only come out stronger, and laughing!

mmhmm, tumblr

I am Jasmine, I love who I am, I love my life. I have the best friends in the world who will continue to laugh with me until the day I die. I'm a nerd, I'm immature, I'm mature, I'm a big sister, I'm a daughter, I'm a helper. I work hard at what I want. My dad supports me and has done more in 5 years than most dads do in their whole life. He even takes care of my brothers, and they're not his. My mom supports me. She's always been there for me and always will. She's my biggest role model and I will never be half as good as she is, but she's behind me no matter what I do and that's all that matters. My best friend supports me, no matter how slow I can be at doing things. My bosses love me because I'm a hard worker who never argues back and do everything I can to  make the job go quicker and easier. My co-workers love me because I'm fun to be around. My customers love me because I'm sweet and a hard worker and do all I can to help them with what they need. This is my life to live, my life to fuck up,  my life to better.

And I am better than you. I don't care what contests and little things you can stick to. They're pass times that can be ignored. What matters is what I do stick to, and that's all. So go suck an egg.

Rise above their shit, my readers! Remember that you are better than them, no matter how much what they say hurts. You are bigger than them. You are better than them. 

Comments will be disabled at this time. May decide to open them up later. Just don't feel like dealin' with the comments *shrugs*