Head Over Heels (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday I share a little snippet of writing from my vast collection with you, the people of the internet. This week's excerpt is taken from "That Damn Umbrella", the first in a collection of modern day fairy tales. Enjoy!

~~

It all started because I forgot my umbrella.

My car broke down on the side of the road, about a half a mile from my house, situated quite literally in the middle of nowhere. No neighbours, no convenience stores, not even a gas station. Just my old house, sitting amidst the trees and fields one would normally find while driving down an old dirt road in the country. My phone was dead, my car reduced to nothing but a hunk of junk, and my house was still a good fifteen or twenty minute walk down the old dirt road.

Oh, and it was raining. Just to put the icing on the cake that was my day.

It was just drizzling at first. I don`t need my umbrella, I thought. My jacket will do just fine, I thought.

You’d think I’d know better.

Lightning flashed across the night sky, and the thunder followed shortly after, rumbling through the dark emptiness around me. I shuddered as I tugged the hood of my jacket down farther over my head. Despite the fact that it was supposed to be a rain jacket, it sure as hell wasn’t doing much to protect me from the sharp droplets pelting against my body. The rain soaked through much too easily, chilling me to the bone. I ducked my head against the raging wind and trudged through the endless, muddy puddles, my feet squishing in my drenched shoes.

Why, oh why didn’t I bring my umbrella?

Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and I flinched at the thunder that followed. Storms have never really been my thing. Had it been this bad when I left my car, I would’ve locked myself in and stuck it out until I could walk home under sunshine the next day.

I guess Mother Nature had other plans for me.

Without the help of streetlights to guide me down the road, I was forced to use a flashlight to guide myself. My flashlight did the job well; it was the batteries, however, I was more worried about. The light emitting from my pocket-sized flashlight was beginning to flicker and waver, sending waves of uneasiness through my heart. I quickened my pace, which proved difficult along the muddy path in front of me. I prayed silently that someone would come driving by, but I held little hope.

Another flash of lightning brightened the road in front of me, and almost instantly, the beam of my flashlight went out entirely, leaving me in the darkness of the night. I cursed aloud, my voice lost in another rumble of thunder. Against my better judgement, I inched my way forward, taking a shaky breath to calm my nerves. 

I have made this trek countless times by car, but walking at night, alone, during a thunderstorm is an entirely different experience.

It happened in the blink of an eye. I stepped in a particularly muddy—and slippery—patch of road. My balance slipped slightly, and just when I thought I would steady myself and escape unscathed, a pair of hands pushed against my back. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling down the ditch at the side of the road and rolling into a patch of trees.

~~

If you're interested, you can read the rest here.

Until later,

- Justyne

The Final Countdown (NaNo Prep, Week 4)

One week left, guys. One week left until we all lose our sanity. (Or at least I will.)

As we count down the final days until November, I shall gather up every tiny, little, sometimes not quite helpful piece of advice I have and graciously pass it on to you.

1) Caffeine is your friend, so up-size that coffee!
2) Stock up on chocolate. You'll thank yourself later. (Don't forget that Halloween candy goes on sale on November 1st!)
3) Jeans are not a necessity. Wear sweatpants or pajama pants all week, no one will care. (Except maybe your boss.)
4) Nobody really expects you to pay attention in class. Write instead!
5) Be sure to crawl out of your room every now and then to let people know that you're alive.
6) If you start posting on Facebook halfway through the month, rabid chihuahuas will sneak into your house through the pipes in your bathroom and chew off your face during the night. Maybe.
7) Your sims cannot write your novel for you. Unfortunately.
8) November is not really over until the final time zone says so. If anyone asks, on November 30th you live on the West Coast.
9) Similarly, November begins when the Australians say so. If anyone asks, you're Australian on November 1st.
10) Bathing is optional.


Blog posts will continue as usual throughout November. The quality of them, however...well, don't expect any Pulitzer Prize-worthy blog posts for the next five weeks.


Until later,

- Justyne

Floating Amnesiac (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday, I grab a snippet of writing hidden somewhere on my computer and post it here, for your enjoyment. Today's passage is the new-and-improved (i.e. completely rewritten) prologue from The Neutral, a story I began during NaNoWriMo 2012. Enjoy!

~~

I have no memory. Or at least, none of my own.

For as long as I can remember, I have been floating. There has never been anything around me; nothing but hot, white light. I don’t remember anything about myself; my name, my past, even what I look like is all fuzzy, like it was all a part of one big dream.

Voices echo around me sometimes. Most often they are regal voices, speaking in monotone voices that would put me to sleep--if I could sleep, that is. Sometimes, though, there are female voices; gossiping, teasing, whispering, giggling. The words are never coherent. Just a shallow buzz, muffled conversations, and laughter to jokes I could never hear.

Until finally, a voice echoes around me, her words finally becoming clear.

“Orlena! Come on, Orlena, it’s not that bad.”

Orlena? Is that my name? No, it can’t be. It doesn’t sound right.

But if I’m not Orlena…who is?

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Cramming (NaNo Prep, Week 3)

When I say that I'm cramming, I normally mean that I've put off studying for a test too long and am cramming all of the information needed into my head in a measly 24 hours. (Which is, well, the situation for just about every single test I've ever taken ever.) This time, though, I'm talking about NaNoWriMo, during which the word has an entirely different meaning. (Okay, more like same meaning, but sliiiightly different concept.)

Your goal? 50,000 words in 30 days. Not an easy task--I only made it to about 14k my first year. (Granted, I wrote more than that the final day of my second year to win, but I digress.) I mean, your life is crammed enough as it is--school, work, chores, relationships, and that pesky thing called sleep that we apparently need--so finding time to squeeze in 50,000 words is definitely a challenge. But that's part of the fun, right?

When it comes down to it, finding enough time to write your novel isn't nearly as hard as it seems. It helps when you realize that all 50,000 words don't have to be written in one day. (Shocker, I know.) If you keep on pace throughout the month, you only have to write approximately 1,667 words a day. I know, I know, it still seems like a lot...so break it up a little more.

This is where the cramming comes in. Whenever you find yourself with free time--be it a minute, or five, or sixty--use that time to write. Before your class or shift at work starts, during breaks, on the bus, just before you go to bed, whenever. If you have enough time to browse through your news feed on Facebook, you have enough time to write. You have to cram writing wherever you can, in whatever tiny little increments of time that you have. At the time, it may not seem like you're accomplishing much--100 words here, 200 there--but trust me, they add up. By the end of the day, you could even find yourself with more words than the daily goal calls for.

If your schedule is already stretched pretty thin and you still find yourself struggling to reach the word count, try getting rid of some things. Make a list of the tiny little things you can give up for the month--Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, whatever--and try your very very hardest to stay away from them for the month. (I won't even try and fool you by saying that you'll never turn to them--procrastination runs abound during November, and odds are that you'll end up browsing through your various social media feeds at some point. But just try your best, that's all I'm asking.) If there's anything at all that you can leave until December--including recording your favourite television shows and binge watching them in celebration after you've typed your 50,000th word--leave it. It can wait. (Unless it's a bill payment, those can't wait. Please don't make those wait.)

Similarly, getting as much done as possible while it's still October is just as useful. Book any hair or dentist or doctor's appointments, catch up on your e-mails, get as much studying or homework done as you physically can before November 1st rears its ugly head. I would also suggest using the few days leading up to NaNoWriMo to sit back and relax. (Or play Sims furiously for hours, as you all know I will be doing.) Get those various books and video games and movies out of your system, so you won't be as likely to turn to them when you're suppose to be writing.

And last, but not least, remember that life happens. If, for whatever reason, you can't make your daily, or even the monthly goal, don't beat yourself up over it. If November is a busy month for you and you don't feel you have time to write a novel, alter the goal a little bit. Make it lower--or even higher, if you're an ambitious little jerk and think you can do better. The point of NaNoWriMo is to write your story, however much of it you can. Even if you only write 100 words, that's still 100 more words than you started off with.

We have two weeks left, guys. Get ready.

Until later,

- Justyne

Singin' in the Rain (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday, I grab a snippet of writing--new, old, or somewhere in between--and post it here, for all of you to read.  Today's passage is from "Gone", an in-progress short story I've been writing over the past few months. Enjoy!

~~

I wish I could say the sun shone brilliantly that day. I wish I could say that I knew something good was going to happen.

In reality, that was the last thing on my mind.

The wind whipped my hair around furiously, the rain stinging my skin as it pelted down onto my body. As much as I wanted to deny it, I could’ve sworn that I felt hail among the drops of water falling from the sky. With my car broken and my town lacking a much-needed bus service, I was forced to jog to school—a good twenty blocks away.

My umbrella proved useless as the wind simply pushed it, inverting it inside out and almost knocking it right out of my hands. I had long since given up on it, closing it and shoving it in the canvas bag slung over my shoulder. Wrestling with it was only slowing me down. I was already soaked and cranky—the last thing I needed was to be late, as well.

I was in such a rush to get to school and out of the rain that I almost didn’t see him. And I didn’t, not at first. It was faint, but it weaved through the sound of rain pounding against the pavement, floating gently up to my ears.

The cheerful, pleasant strumming of a guitar.

I slowed my brisk walk, temporarily forgetting about the droplets dripping from my wet clumps of hair, and looked around. Everyone was continuing on their way, seemingly oblivious of the young, good-looking man strumming his guitar; an acoustic version of the song Good Life by OneRepublic. My favourite song, I mentally noted.

His voice soon accompanied the instrument. It wavered in some bits, was totally off key in others. But you couldn’t deny that he was enjoying himself, his own dark wet locks flying around his head as he swayed and shook his head to the music. His bright blue eyes lit up the gloomy day as easily as the sun could have.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I was calling out to him, “Hey.”

He continued on, oblivious to my calls.

I approached him and stopped a couple feet away. “Hey!”

He stopped singing, but continued strumming, his smile never disappearing from his face. “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the weather and the music.

“Playing guitar,” he said simply, his smile extending further across his face. “What are you doing?”

I shook my head. “I can see that. But why?”

He shrugged, his hand still smoothly and effortlessly flying across the strings of the guitar. “Why not?”

“It’s raining.”

“Exactly.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I like the rain. I like playing the guitar. I like singing. And I like this song.” He grinned, his eyes brightening. “So why not?”

He finished up his song, and I found myself whistling the final notes along with him. As he began to pack up his guitar, he pointed to the building behind me. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

I turned around to see a Tim Horton’s coffee shop sitting peacefully behind me. I turned back to face him. “I should be buying you a coffee; you’re soaked to the bone.”

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. I was rather fond of that grin already. “So are you.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “How about I buy you a coffee, and you buy me a coffee.”

He snapped the buckle of his guitar case shut and lifted it off the ground as he stood up. “Deal.”

I was late for school for the first time that day.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Snippet Monday

I didn't do Snippet Sunday yesterday because I was in the city, visiting my good 'ol driving buddy, and was therefore away from my computer (and inspiration dice), and was thus unable to post a snippet.

Sooooo here for one week only...Snippet Monday!

~~

The following passage in an excerpt from The Decagon Project, a story following the adventures of Dani, an 18-year-old writer who wakes up one day and finds herself in the world she had been writing about for the past ten years. This particular passage is taken from the first chapter. Enjoy!


I have never worked for Daphne’s parents. I’d only just started working at their flower shop, “In Bloom”, the week before, and her parents had practically handed her the family business the minute she turned eighteen.

Daphne, on the other hand, had been working at the store since before I can even remember. 
As a result, she had had the pleasure of working for her parents for years. So while I never had the opportunity, I had learned all about the experience through her. 

I hadn’t heard good things.

But even if what Daphne said was accurate (and I, personally, found it hard to believe that they made her clean the flower cooler with a toothbrush), she wasn’t much more merciful.

So while she sent her younger brother Jason out on deliveries (a job normally reserved for me), she left me on inventory duty. This basically consisted of dragging bucket after bucket of roses from the big truck idling out back into the giant flower cooler in the store, all by myself.

Thanks, Daphne.

I sighed as I plopped the last of the buckets on the ground, shivering at the cold air sending goose bumps up my arms. As soon as I let go of the bucket, I dashed over to the exit and hesitantly poked my head out from behind the heavy cooler door. I glanced around, carefully scanning the hallway.

No Daphne.

I inched my way out of the cooler, closing it carefully and quietly behind me.

Sure, I was technically supposed to be working. But a quick break wouldn’t hurt, right?

I darted across the hallway, stepping on the tips of my toes to avoid making too much noise. I didn’t pause as I slipped through the door opposite to the cooler, holding my breath as I entered the staff lounge and closed the door behind me.

I stopped for a moment. There wasn’t a single sound outside the door. 

Perfect.

I tiptoed over to the couch, where I had thrown my old, worn carrier bag on my way in. I slipped my hand in, feeling the familiar, rough surface of my most prized possession.

“Dani?”

I jumped, my heart beating a mile a minute. I yanked my empty hand out of the bag and spun around to face my best friend, clutching a clipboard with one eyebrow cocked higher than the other.

She didn’t look impressed.

“What are you doing?” Daphne asked, tapping her fingers against the clipboard.

“I was just, uh…” I eyed a pen sitting on the table beside me and quickly grabbed it. I held it up in front of me and smiled nervously. “I was grabbing a pen!”

Daphne narrowed her eyes slightly. “What’s that?” she asked flatly, gesturing at the pen tucked behind my ear.

I cursed silently and threw the pen back onto the table behind me. “Well what do you know, guess I went searching for nothing!” 

I tried to escape, but she blocked the doorway with her arm, staring at me with the same unimpressed (with a hint of pissed) expression.

“What?” I asked, my voice piquing with fake innocence.

“You brought it, didn’t you.” 

Her voice didn’t rise in question. She said it as a statement, a fact she had no doubt in her mind was true.

Working for your best friend can be a pain in the ass sometimes.

I backed away from the door and collapsed onto the couch in defeat. “Yeah.”

“Damnit, Dani!” Daphne sighed and dropped her arm. “You can’t keep doing this! If my parents showed up one day and saw that you were back here writing instead of working, they’d fire you in a second. They still own the place, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” Daphne paused for a moment. “But now that I have the stern talking-to out of the way…”

She tossed her clipboard onto the table and plopped herself down on the old armchair opposite of me. She curled herself up, tucking her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs, looking at me expectantly. “Tell me what’s happening in ‘The World’.”

I rolled my eyes. “Forget it. I’m not telling you.”

“Awe, c’mon!” she whined, looking at me with her puppy dog eyes. “I won’t tell!”

“You can read it when I’m done.”

Daphne snorted. “You’ve been working on that thing for ten years. You’re never gonna be done.”

She kind of had a point.

“At least give me a hint.” She flashed her puppy dog eyes again.

I sighed. “Cain dies. You happy?” I stood up and started heading out of the lounge.

“WAIT ONE SECOND.” Daphne jumped up and clamped a hand around my wrist, yanking me backwards. “What do you mean Cain dies?”

“Are there multiple meanings?”

“But….but he can’t die!”

I yanked my arm out of her grasp. “Sure he can. People die all the time.” My heart lurched in my chest.

“You know what I mean,” Daphne said more quietly.

I took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “At any rate, I’m the writer, so I can do whatever I want. I’m practically God,” I joked.

Daphne chuckled a little and paused for a moment, as if debating whether or not to speak. 

“Well,” she said slowly, “he is the main character. Isn’t there a rule against killing off the main character like that?”

I turned my head to face her and arched an eyebrow. “Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet…”

She slapped my cheek lightly. “That’s different. Shakespeare was depressed.”

“He was not!”

“Well then why the hell did he kill off all of his characters?”

“I dunno, artistic license?”

“Whatever.” She fell back onto the couch and grabbed my arm again, dragging me down with her. “At least tell me how he dies…”

I gave her a look. “Not gonna happen.”

She started shaking my arm, rocking me back and forth. “PLEEEEAAAAAAAA—“

“Oh, for the love of—fine.” I yanked my arm out of her grasp again. “I’ll give you a hint.”

“Yay!” She immediately settled down, tucking her knees back under her chin and settling herself down in the opposite end of the couch.

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if she really was the 26-year-old she claimed to be.

“Okay, all I’ll tell you is this: he dies protecting the one he cares about the most.”

“You mean that Layla chick?”

I rolled my eyes and stood up. “I’m not saying anything else.”

“Oh my God, it’s that Layla chick, isn’t it! I always hated her!”

“To be fair, it’s not entirely her fault,” I said, approaching the door. Daphne stood up and joined me, grabbing her clipboard on our way out of the room.

“That’s what she wants you to think!”

I rolled my eyes again, this time laughing a bit as the door closed behind us. “Whatever you say…”

~~

If you would like to read more, you can read the first seven chapters here.


Until later,

- Justyne

Eenie Meenie Minie Mo (NaNoWriMo Prep, Week 1)

With the start of October comes the beginning of The Most Stressful Time of the Year.

No, not Christmas. NaNoWriMo; or National Novel Writing Month.

I'm 99% sure that I've mentioned NaNoWriMo before, but in case I haven't (or there are still people reading this who aren't familiar with it), NaNoWriMo is a giant worldwide event which challenges writers to complete a 50,000+ word novel in 30 days. It takes place every November, which is coming up fast.

Which means, it's time to start prepping our novels.

So for the next four weeks, up until November actually starts, I'll be blogging about my adventures prepping my own novel, and hopefully pass on some tips to you, as well.

The first and most important step to prepping for NaNoWriMo is to come up with the actual story. If you're like me, you have a stash of ideas that build up throughout the year, just waiting for November to come along (or for you to finish your million other projects to allow adequate time for something new). I have one story in particular that I recently came up with, and I would love to dive into it for NaNoWriMo.

Problem is, I have one other idea that I would love to work on, as well.

Last November I wrote a story entitled The Neutral for NaNoWriMo. Due to the length of the story, I had to sort of cut it off half-way through (otherwise I wouldn't have finished by the end of November 30th). Since I have yet to write the second half, I figured NaNoWriMo would be as good a time as any. And that's been my plan, basically since I finished the first half of the story last November.

But then I thought of that new idea I mentioned earlier and, well, now I'm stumped.

Sometimes it is as easy as playing a quick little game of "Eenie Meenie Minie Mo". But no matter how many times I try it, I still find myself yearning to write the other story. I've been flip flopping between the two endlessly over the past few days.

So many stories, so little time.

For now, I think I've made my decision. I think I know which story I'm going to go with.

Which one? Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and see.


Until later,

- Justyne