Review: Shoplifter by Michael Cho

"What will you do now?""I'm not sure. Whatever it is, I know I have to find it, instead of waiting for it to fine me." - Michael Cho, Shoplifter

Hello, friends! Book Review Wednesday returns with another mandatory school reading! (Hip hip!)

When Corrina Park finally got her English degree, she had a plan--move to the city, get a day job to eliminate crippling debt, and write, write, write, until she becomes the author she always wanted to be. Five years later, though, she's still working at the same ad agency, no real friends, no romance on the horizon, and she hasn't written a real word since graduation. Bored, tired, and frustrated, she starts shoplifting from the local convenience store to shake things up. Soon, she develops the perfect strategy, and slipping magazines between the pages of her newspaper soon become the highlight of her days.

Petty theft is far from the meaning she's looking for, but how can one find themselves when they're lost in the crowd of a big city?

First of all, it was really, really hard to disassociate this book with my future. Notice the keywords--crippling debt and English degree and author...I mean, good 'ol Cho here is basically acting as a mystic determining destiny. It is very, very easy to picture myself falling into this same trap, which is utterly terrifying and also somewhat comforting, considering that she ends up in some form of inner peace by the end of it. (Uh...spoilers?)

I think, out of all the books I've been reading for my Canadian Comics class, this one (along with Two Generals) had some of my favourite styles in it. I loved the two toned look, the "lost line" style, and just the way he drew the city scape in general. (I'm writing my end-of-term research paper on Shoplifter's city setting, so that last bit isn't really all that surprising.) It was just very aesthetically pleasing to read, especially compared to some of the other, more disorienting styles I've encountered in the course.

One of my biggest problems with this read, though, was that the resolution seemed almost...too quick? Her frustrations took an almost 180, resulting in a very neat and tidy resolution that didn't really...fit with the way the rest of the book had gone. I did like the ending, though, and how open and hopeful it felt. I thought it left Corrina in a very good place, far enough from where she started to give us a good resolution (even if it did feel sudden), but not far enough that we were introduced to too many different plot points.

Final rating: 3.5/5.

Until later,

- Justyne

Grace VanderWaal (BEDS 015)

I don't really follow a lot of reality TV. (Unless it's, like, the Food Network or something.) I'll watch an episode or two here and there, but I definitely don't get caught up in The Bachelor like some people do.

But damn, I'm a sucker for audition clips. You know, for shows like America's Got Talent or The X Factor, where they have particpants audition live in front of an audience. I don't like watching the bad audition that everyone makes fun of, because to be honest I cringe too much to take enjoyment out of it. But what I do like watching are the good auditions--the ones that get the golden buzzer, the ones that get a standing ovation and a yes from every single judge.

I love watching these because it's like I'm watching someone's dream come true, right in front of my eyes. Because in that moment, it is. Regardless of whether or not they win, no matter how far they make it in the competition--in that moment captured on film, everything they have been wishing for is coming true. And it makes me so, so happy to see them so happy.

Last night, Grace Vanderwaal won America's Got Talent. I saw her audition back in June, and I've watched it a hundred times since. Her voice is stunning and her personality sparkles, and I don't think I've ever been happier about the results of a reality show. She deserves it, I think. When I watched the results this morning, myself--along with a million others--watched all her dreams come true.

And I'm so, so happy for her.


Until later,

- Justyne

The Five Year Plan (BEDS 004)

You know what I suck at? Long-term planning. I am physically incapable, it seems, of planning everything beyond the end of tomorrow. Like, I just can't do it. I have many a talent, and that simply isn't included. I had a weekly planner mousepad, once. I thought it would help.

It didn't.

I tried so hard. I would sit down at the beginning of the week, carefully consider my work schedule and school schedule and literally everything that I had going on in my life. I would judge how long a task would take, and plan an asburd amount of extra time for it. In most cases, in fact, it was actually a rather reasonable schedule.

But something would come up, as something always does. I would miss one item on my to-do list for the day, and then suddenly the rest of my week would be invalid. Because guess what: each item on every to-do list for the rest of the week was dependent on me getting that one freaking thing done on Monday!

"So just bump it all back a day," you say. But guess what! I can't! It's all there, in ink, permenently visible to my vulnerable soul! I can't just change it. Do you know how long it took to discover this delicate balance of regular updates? Three years! Aka: TOO FREAKING LONG.

So you can see, from my inability to efficiently plan for the week, why I would dislike the idea of a 5 Year Plan. I don't think I've even broken into Year 1 yet--I'm still rooted in Year 0! I can barely plan for today, let alone five freaking years from now. (Plus, I'll be, like, twenty-seven. Twenty-seven! I don't want to think about that, thank you.)

How do you even make a five-year plan? That's the sort of thing they tell you to do in your first year of university, when your eyes are still full of hope and the combination of student debt and a retail job hasn't killed your soul yet. That's the sort of thing that they tell you to do in high school, when you still think adulthood is going to be the Best Thing Ever. (Spoiler alert: run away.) I'm pretty sure you have to have your life together to even think about making a Five Year Plan.

Me? I avoided my desk for three days because of a giant spider I watched crawl across it earlier in the week. I am the very opposite of put together.

I mean, don't get me wrong--I have goals. I have dreams. I'm a semi-functioning human being. I like to think that I'll get accepted into an international program in Walt Disney World, and spend all of next summer working there. I like to think that I'll have my university degree by the time I'm 24. (Okay...maybe 25.) I have ideas for more tattoos that I want to plaster my body with. I find myself considering moving back to the East coast after graudation.

And somewhere in between all that, I like to think I'll get published.

But in the last couple years I've learned a thing or do--namely, it's okay to take things one thing at a time. I work better when I narrow my focus, weedle my to-do list down to a single day. I can't let myself get caught up in everything I have to do tomorrow, next week, next month...just to complete a deadline that I've imposed on myself.

I don't have a Five Year Plan. But I make goals based on the seasons, I pick my passion and run with it, and somehow manage to get stuff done along the way. Maybe not as much as I hoped, but something is better than nothing.

There is no time limit. Just a list I made at one in the morning, and the hope that I'll complete it sometime in this lifetime.

Until later,

- Justyne

Visualization

When I find myself in a bookstore--which, let's be honest, I often do--I like to mentally shelve my books. I find the E authors--there are never very many of them--and run my hands down the spines until I find where my name fits.

There. Somewhere between Emond and Everett; that's where my book would go--where it will go, someday.

It's weird, I know. But as dorky as it is, I still do it.

You know what else I do? I constantly pin pictures of home offices on Pinterest. I torture myself for days and days on end with this images of beautiful writing spaces, that I would love to incorporate into my own home but can't because I'm poor. (And also because I don't have that much space to decorate to begin with.)

I do these things frequently, for the same reasons that people make vision boards--I like to see my goals in a way that can often be difficult, because I'm not psychic, and can in no way see the future. I like to picture the way that my writing space would look like, if I had the space, time, and money decorate it as I see fit. I like to find where my name fits, because it somehow makes it more likely that it will fit. Like somehow, the spot is waiting for me, waiting for my future debut novel to slide on into the place it was always meant to be.

It works that way in reverse, too. I have hard copies of just about everything I wrote in high school--every short story, every poem, every brief excerpt of every vague novel premise I had. I keep every journal, every notebook, every scrap piece of paper I scribble on. It gets crammed into a drawer, and even though I never look at it much, it helps to have it around. For whatever reason, having this physical representation of everything I've worked towards makes it more valid. Like I've actually accomplished something, instead of screaming into the void of my own mind.

I always mean to make a vision board, I do. But it never works out--I keep putting it off, because it's too much work and I'm too lazy to set aside the time to do it. I almost don't think I will, because my goals and ambitions change so frequently that it'd be impossible to document everything accurately. I'd rather spend that extra time working towards it, and save the daydreaming for my commute. (And, okay, maybe my shift, too.)

I daydream a lot. But sometimes, it's nice to have something more concrete to look at.

Until later,

- Justyne

Review: All I Know Now

WARNING: The following blog posts contain spoilers for the novel under review, ranging from mild to heart wrenchingly major. If you have yet to read this novel and dislike being spoiled, leave now and return upon completion.

If you HAVE read this novel (or just don't give a crap about spoilers), then continue on.

But don't say I didn't warn you.

~~

HELLO, FRIENDS! This week I've got a book written by one of my favourite online personalities--All I Know Now by Carrie Hope Fletcher!

THE PLOT-Y BIT

For many, Carrie Hope Fletcher is already a familiar name. She's touched the hearts of thousands, through chilling performances as Eponine in Les Misérables, her quirky and charming YouTube videos, and her long-running blog entitled All I Know Now, rightfully earning her the title of everyone's honourary big sister.

Now, she's ready to conquer the literary world, as her ever popular blog becomes a work of published nonfiction. From dating to friendship, bullies to the ever-terrifying future, this 22-year-old offers advice as she reflects back on her own teen years, what she thought she knew, and all she knows now.

She may not know everything, but who really does?

THE REVIEW-Y BIT

Another nonfiction book! Who'd have thought, eh?

I've been looking forward to this book for quite some time! I've been actively watching Carrie's videos for upwards of two years now, and she rarely disappoints! Her videos never fail to put a smile on my face and improve my mood immensely. So, needless to say, when I heard that her boundless energy was going into a book, I was extremely excited!

Confession time: I cheated a bit to get my hands on this book. It was released in the UK--and only the UK--in late April, whereas the North American release isn't scheduled until September. We all know that I suck at waiting, so waiting an extra four months while so many others were already displaying it proudly on their shelves simply wasn't gonna fly. So while my fellow North Americans lamented over the wait, I went on to the Book Depository and sneakily ordered my copy online.

(I'm sure some other people did this, as well. The UK-based, free-shipping-worldwide website isn't exactly a secret. But I felt sneaky nonetheless.)

Knowing ahead of time that it is an advice book, I went into it not expecting to find use in everything, and I was right. Like any advice, you should take what you need and leave the rest--I had no need for advice on friendship or how to deal with bullies. But even so, I genuinely believe that there's something in here for everybody--I, for one, rather enjoyed the section on following your dreams. Carrie has become somewhat of a role model for me, and hearing her advice and thoughts on a subject that is rather important to me was something to take inspiration from. 

So even though this is marketed towards teens, don't be afraid to pick this up if you're a "grown up". I'm sure you'll still enjoy it!

The only real issue that I had with this book was the chapter length. More often than not, I felt like the chapters were too small, and they felt too compact for my liking. I also thought a lot of them had rather abrupt endings; they could have used a couple extra closing thoughts before moving on to the next chapter.

Even so, Carrie's anecdotes were wonderful, and her narration style made it feel like I was reading transcripts from her actual videos--very natural and well done!

THE STAR-Y BIT

If you need a gift for a teen or young adult, this book is definitely the way to go! I give it a solid four stars.

Be sure to leave your own thoughts on this week's book in the comments below!

Until later,

- Justyne

Colour

I spend more time daydreaming than anything else. More than writing, more than Sims, more than the time I waste on every social media site combined. I do it at night, as I'm falling asleep, and in the morning before I can be bothered to get out of bed. I do it when I'm commuting to and from work; hell, I do it while I'm working. I have enormous dreams and countless fantasies, all playing out in the confinds of my mind. There's a reason most of my internet screen names are "day-dreamer-101". It's the biggest and best way to describe my personality.

I also consider it to be super fundamentally important to my life and identity as a writer.

I've talked before about the reason I became a writer, but I only briefly touched on how I really got from watching and fantasizing about Sailor Moon to writing my own story inspired by it. Before there were words, typed into existence on my family's computer, there were daydreams.

Do you know how many times I dreamt up my first story before I actually wrote it down? Dozens, at least. Hell, the only reason I wrote it down at all was because the story changed every time I played through it in my head. I just wanted to remember what pieces I had already put together--the idea of actually being a writer came later.

Before writing, there was daydreaming. It's been the constant in my life, the thing that defines me better than anything else. It's the reason I read so much, why I get so emotionally invested in these fictional stories, why my dreams are as big and as bright as they are. It's my method for getting through a stubborn case of writer's block, the way I envision a story before I start it, and the reason I'm able to tolerate long commute times. It's the most productive form of procrastination I have.

When you're pursuing any sort of creative career, you need a big imagination--and what better sign of a big imagination than the ability to daydream so colourfully?

My imagination is one of my proudest qualities. I'm grateful that I'm able to dream as big as I did as a child, that this sometimes cruel world has not yet broken me down like it has others. It's not pure determination that fuels me to keep trying--it's the idea that it's possible, that any dream I can cook up can come true.

One of my favourite quotes

Without imagination, the world can be a very grey place. I'd much rather see it in colour.

When I Grow Up

When I was little--like six or seven--I wanted to be an artist. While that sounds very broad, I had a specific idea in my head. To seven-year-old me, being an artist meant drawing and making crafts. Do you remember the show Art Attack? Think of the guy who hosted that--he was my inspiration.

That idea was short-lived, though, because one day I came to the realization that I actually wasn't very good at art, period. Which, when you stop to think about it, is a very bleak thing for a seven-year-old to realize. Nevertheless, I gave up my childhood dream of being an artist, and decided that I would have to pick something else--which I did. A couple years later, I discovered my love of writing and storytelling, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Except it really isn't. At least, not the whole history.

Around the time I started high school, I started to re-develop my interest in visual arts. I took inspiration from Japanese comics and from video games and Disney movies. I filled up one sketchbook, then two, then three. I started developping comic concepts and ideas and, suddenly, all of my stories started to take on a visual form. Soon enough, my writing fell to the backburner as I dedicated my time to this new craft.

I didn't doubt my writing. Surprisingly, that's the one thing about my self that I've always been confident about. I just saw a new world that I had never properly explored, a new skill that needed practice and development. I saw a whole new world of stories that I could create and express better through pictures than I could through words alone.

I was still confident about my skills as a writer, sure, but what of my future? Could I do both? Could I write my novels, while creating comics at the same time? Could I make equal content on both sides, or would I have to choose? Already it was looking like I would--I was already struggling to juggle both of them.

And still, my eyes drifted. I noticed the up-and-coming YouTubers, with their vlogs and mini series and comedy sketches. My initial university searches had me looking at film programs, because God, wouldn't that be cool? I started seeing animation in a whole new light; I developed an appreciation for it, and admired people who taught themselves and learned the craft completely on their own.

All at once, I didn't just have one dream, one fantasy of being a novelist; I had dozens. I pictured myself at Disney's studios, slaving away at their next feature film. I pictured myself making YouTube videos, filming and editing them, all by myself. I want to write short stories, collections of micro fiction, children's books. I want to make web comics nad graphic novels and try my hand at writing a movie script. I want to do all of it, and more.

When people ask me what I want to do with my life--or "what I want to be when I grow up"--my answer is, automatically, to write. That's not a lie--I do want to write. But I want to do more than that, too.

I don't just want to write--I want to tell stories, in any media I can. I want to create stuff, all day long, for the rest of my life. I don't want to be defined by just oen thing, one skillset. I want to be able to make all sorts of things, and let my stories reach all sorts of people.

Seven-year-old me had it right all along--I want to be an artist.

For so long, I struggled to find My Thing. I tried to narrow my life down, to find that one skill or passion that I could follow for the rest of my life. But you can't narrow your life down to just one thing. There will always be other shiney hobbies and skills and worlds calling out to you, begging to be explored. That's what I'm doing now; I'm making the things I want to make, right now, in any way I can.

Because that is what I want to be when I grow up.


Until later,

- Justyne

Micro Fiction Monday: To Fly

There is a story told among my people, a tale of a girl who fell in love with the land dwellers. Legend says that she sold her voice to the sea gods in exchange for legs, so that she may join them in their cities and villages—but that’s where the story ends. From there, people argue of the outcome; some say she fell in love, and married human royalty. Others insist that her plan backfired, and in her heartbreak her body was turned to sea foam. This debate is one that has been going on for centuries—and one that I have no interest in.

She was foolish, that mermaid girl. The human world is disgusting and horrible, full of greedy mortals who destroy their own land, and the land of others, to advance their own selfish plans. I wouldn’t give up my voice, my fin, or anything to live with the likes of them.

But the sky, on the other hand....the sky is magical. The deep, endless blue that stretches on during the day, and the white lights that twinkle when the sun goes down. I want to brush my fingers against the fluffy white clouds that litter the sky, and replace the coolness of the water with the warmth of the sun against my skin. I want to pluck the moon out of the night and wear it around my neck like a locket, to stretch a new pair of muscles from my back and leave my dull world under the sea behind.

I don’t want to swim anymore.

I want to fly.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Musicals

I love musicals. No, that's wrong. I adore musicals. I wish everyday life could be a musical. (If it was, then maybe I wouldn't sound like a dying cat when I sing.)

Characters are motivated by desire. Everyone--rich, poor, happy, sad, confident or not--has something that they want. Maybe they think it's impossible. Maybe they've spent their whole lives working towards it. Maybe they don't even know where to start, and have spent years staring up at the sky, waiting and wanting and wishing for it to happen.

Plot is moved by a character's actions. A character's actions are fueled by want. Therefore, the plot is moved by the desires of the characters.


I love Disney movies--although whether I love musicals because of Disney or the other way around is unclear. Either way, when it comes to the franchise I generally have two favourite songs per movie:

1) The romance song (Think I See the Light from Tangled or A Whole New World from Aladdin.)
2) The opening "dream" song (Think Just Around the Riverbend from Pocahontas or For the First Time in Forever from Frozen.)

I love the romance songs because...well, hello, cute and adorable Disney couple together-ness. But I love the opening songs even more because they're fueled by the passion of the protagonist.

Exhibit A: The Princess and the Frog. Girl dreams of owning her restaurant. Works two different jobs to save money. Finally makes enough for the down payment of the building, thus taking one step closer to making her dreams a reality. Walks inside her future restaurant and BAM! Musical number. "I'm almost there!"

Exhibit B: Mulan. Girl wants to make her family proud. She follows the routine, tries to meet the standard expectations for women in her society--and fails. She wants to bring honour to her family, yes, but not at the expense of who she is. Spies on her apparently disappointed parents and BAM! Musical number (albeit a much slower song). "When will my reflection show who I am inside?"

The thing that makes these songs so great is the passion behind them; the desire to reach what seems impossible at times. These characters know what they want, and they tell us through (an extremely catchy) song. They show us their motivation, their inspiration, their greatest dreams. They give us a look inside themselves, so that we can care for them for the rest of the roughly 90 minute production.

When I'm developing characters, I like to take a song that I feel summarizes their motivation and imagine them singing it. I like to picture them bursting into song, telling the world, "This is what I want!" I feel like the song helps me map out their journey over the course of the story. (Hell, sometimes I plan out a whole little musical for them...yes I'm weird I know.)

So what about you? Do you pick out songs for your characters?


Until later,

- Justyne

7 Things I Want to Accomplish as a Writer (BEDS #25)

As a writer, there are lots of things I want to do. I want to publish a novel, a physical novel that's sold in bookstores and borrowed from libraries. I want to write a TV show script someday, and a movie script, and a play script. I want to publish a collection of short stories and flash fiction, and novellas that sell for 99 cents on Amazon. I want to make a living off of my writing, to be able to support myself and, someday, a family.

But there's more to it than that. There are more, not always visible things that I want to accomplish before I consider myself successful.

I want to make people connect with my characters, and with my stories. I want my readers to see something familiar in these fictional people, these things that remind them of themselves. I want people to read my plot and say, "Hey, I'm going through that!" I want people to be able to recommend my books to others, and tell them that it helped them deal with their own problems and issues.

I want to create characters that kids can grow up with. I want 10-year-olds to pick up a series I wrote, and ten years later, still be following the characters. I want to write a TV show someday, one that teenagers will start watching as they enter high school and graduate alongside their fictional counterparts four years later. I want to give readers someone that can be there, that they can turn to when life gets hard...someone who will be there as they grow up. I want my characters to be an influence on the kind of people my readers become.

I want to inspire people with my stories. I want someone to close my book with a whole new understanding of themselves. I want readers to realize that they can follow their dreams, that they can pursue the career they want to pursue, no matter how unconventional it is. I want someone to start a new project or a new habit because they read about it in one of my books. I want someone to make a change in their life because my book, my story is the thing that motivated them to.

I want to make people laugh. I want people to read a line and laugh out loud, so hard that they cry.

I want to make people cry for sadness, too. I want them to be so moved that they physically can't hold back their tears.

I want to make people fall in love with my characters. I want them to believe in them, to root for them, to truly care about what happens to them. I want people to wish for my characters to be real, because to them, they already are.

But most importantly, I want to make 9-year-old Me proud. I want to be the kind of person that I would have looked up to back in the fourth grade.

I want her to know that we made it. 

What do you want to accomplish? Not just the financials, or the physical proof of "success", but the more emotional stuff. The biggest stuff, the stuff that tends to get overlooked, but means so, so much more.

Until later,

- Justyne

Letters to Myself - 30 (BEDS #19)

Dear 30-year-old self,

This letter, unlike the others, is not about reassuring myself. This letter, unlike the others, will not tell you of the great things to come and warn you of things that might be better to avoid. Because this letter is not a rhetorical letter--it's a letter that you will see, someday. Because you are me, and if I know myself like I think I do, I'm sure I'll end up rummaging through old internet posts eventually.

You will find this. And you will read this. And although you probably don't want to listen to the words of naive, probably cringe-worthy, 20-year-old you, I think you should. I mean, you won't listen to anyone else, anyway. Who knows any of this better than us?

I don't know where you are. Maybe you're married, starting a family. Maybe you're single and alone with 20 cats. (God, I hope it's not the second one. I don't even like cats that much.) Maybe you're a published, successful author...and maybe you're not.

I don't like to acknowledge the possibility of our failure, but denying it doesn't make it any less plausible. It might happen, as sad as that idea is, and you'll probably want to give up.

Please don't.

Maybe you're considering switching career paths--heading for something that pays better. Maybe you already have, and your writing as already long since started collecting dust in the corner.

Please don't.

I'm sorry if my lack of progress at age 20 helped contribute to our lack of success at age 30. I'm sorry if you're second guessing the decisions that I'm making now.

But I'm not sorry it happened.

I'm not sorry I left school, I'm not sorry that I spent so much time focusing on the positives and convincing myself that yes, this is possible. Because even if, at age 30, you are not where I envision you to be, it still is possible. It's as possible at age 30 as it was at age 20 as it will be at age 40 or 50 or 72. There are no time constraints.

So if you have given up, or you are still considering it, just remember...you still have time. You can still do this. I believe in you, and since I'm you, you really believe in yourself...right? (I'm sorry, this whole talking-to-myself deal has really mixed up the pronouns in my head.)

I'm leaving this up to you, now. So if not for yourself, do it for me. And if not for me, do it for the 9-year-old us--the one who still exists in another time and place, lying in bed and dreaming of seeing her name in print someday.

Do it for her, okay?

Love,

20-year-old Justyne

10 Quotes That I Absolutely Love

Every now and then, I come across a quote--be it from the internet or a book or whatever--that I love oh-so-very-much that I just HAVE to write it down.

I now present to you ten of these quotes, in no particular order.

~~

"...and I decided that I would do my best in future not to write books just for the money. If you didn't get the money, then you didn't have anything. If I did work I was proud of, and I didn't get the money, at least I'd have the work." - Neil Gaiman, Make Good Art 

"I know you're not perfect. But it's a person's imperfections that make them perfect for someone else." - Stephanie Perkins, Lola and the Boy Next Door 

"Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy." - Stephen King 

"The truth is this: successful writers don't have more time than you. They MAKE time to write." - S.J. Scott

"For any one of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. ... If your forever was ending tomorrow, would this be how you'd want to have spent it?" - Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever 

"Life is full of screw-ups. You're supposed to fail sometimes. It's a required part of human existence." - Sarah Dessen, Along for the Ride

"Writing is the only thing that when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else." - Gloria Steinem

"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." - Neil Gaiman, Coraline 

"I am here to tell you that if you don't feel ready for university at the age of eighteen, there is always time to go back should you ever want to. I am here to tell you that having a well-paid job that is so often glamorised by the media and 'career advisers' at school is not the answer to happiness if it is not what you want to do." - Emma Blackery, YOU ARE NOT YOUR PARENTS

"All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them." - Walt Disney

What's your favourite quote?

Until later,

- Justyne

Back to the Start (Part II)

The following is a continuation of last week's post. If you missed it, you can go back and read it here.

It all started with Sailor Moon.

No, that was not a joke. It will not be followed with some snide, sarcastic remark, or a sentence that provides much better context to it. As silly as it may seem--and I am very much aware that it sounds extremely silly--it did all start with Sailor Moon.

To say I was a huge fan was...well, a bit of an understatement. I watched it religiously, every day--even if it meant waking up at six in the morning. When it was cancelled, I cried my poor little eight-year-old eyes out. I borrowed the two VHS tapes that the local library owned continuously, watching them constantly until they simply wouldn't work anymore.

When I was around nine years old, I got a tiny little locket for Christmas. Lord only knows where it is now, but at the time, the very first thing that went through my mind was the locket that Sailor Moon had used (that's what they had called it in the English version, anyway) to transform. With this locket, I could be a Sailor Scout, too.

I was nine when I wrote my first real story. It was a story about a group of girls, who used magical lockets to transform into superheroes. Sound familiar?

For me, that story was more than just a story. Just like that show became more than just a show. It was a way for me to be something more--more than just an ordinary girl. That stupid little story, the one I wrote all those years ago, that was my way of being a Sailor Scout. That was my way of saving the world. I often complain about how badly written my first writing attempt was, but really?

That story is my favourite.

Back then, there were no dreams of publication. There were no terribly unrealistic fantasies of becoming rich and famous through writing. (Well, not at first, anyway. Trust me, those came quickly.) There was only me, and the daydreams I spent saving the world. It was the first time, the very first time, that I was excited to write, and live in a fictional world all my own.

That is what I need to be looking for. Not stories that will make me money, but stories that make me excited. Excited to write, to feel, to live. One of my favourite quotes is from Neil Gaiman, who said, "I decided that I'd do my best in the future not to write books just for the money. If you didn't get the money, then you didn't have anything. And if I did work I was proud of, and I didn't get the money, at least I'd have the work."

I heard that quote a couple of years ago, in a video I stumbled upon while browsing the web. I've carried it with me ever since.

I'm not saying that I shouldn't aim for publication. And I'm definitely not saying that I'm going to stop aiming for it anytime soon, either. I will not rest until I can walk into just about any Chapters or Indigo bookstore in the country and see my book--my story--sitting on the shelf.

What I'm trying to say is that, for a moment, I forgot why I started. I forgot how wonderful it felt to be truly, genuinely excited about writing; to not worry about whether it was good, or whether people would like it, or how much money it would make.

To write for the thrill;

To write myself into the person I always wanted to be;

To write for the sake of writing;

That is my goal.


Until later,

- Justyne

Back to the Start (Part I)

It's no secret that I want to make a living off of my writing. Being able to focus whatever hour of the day on my creative projects, without having to schedule around a day job, would be absolutely incredible. It's my ultimate goal of where I want to end up.

I think there's a risk associated, though, with striving to achieve such a thing. Generally, people don't begin creative hobbies for the money--we're attracted to them because we love to create new things, be them stories or paintings or movies or whatever. It's what makes us happy, and that's wonderful. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to make money off of something that makes you happy.

The thing is, though, there is a fine line between writing for yourself and writing for money. And it's very easy to cross it. I would know; I crossed that line, myself. And I didn't even realize it.

I suffered a bit of a slump during April. Or maybe that's just what I've been telling myself, to feel better about having come so close to my goal for Camp NaNoWriMo. Either way, I was stressing. When I returned home from PEI a year ago, I promised myself two things:

1) I would move out by my 20th birthday, and

2) During this time at home, I would finish a manuscript. Written, revised, edited--everything. Done. Completed. Fini. Simple, right?

Not so much.

Despite the constant planning with my friends--and the constant discussions at work--the whole moving thing seemed a million years away. It wasn't until a few months ago, probably around March, that I realized it was only five months away. Five months.

And suddenly, life was moving too fast. Weeks were racing by at break-neck speed, days were soaring out the window as though they were nothing, and I was left in a frazzled, stressed, panicked state. It was like my final year of high school all over again--a day was coming, and once that day arrived, my life would change forever.

I am excited to move out, I really am. I'm excited to be independent and on my own and just to have a fresh start in a (semi) new place.

But I'm also terrified.

And, among all of this chaos, there was my writing. Projects that I had anticipated to be well on their way to completion were left at an eerie pause halfway through the first draft. Suddenly, my goal to have a manuscript finished and polished didn't seem so plausible anymore. It wasn't just discouraging--it was downright frightening. This, the very reason I had left university in the first place, wasn't even going the way it was supposed to. If I couldn't handle this now--living with my parents, with only a part-time job and minimal bills to worry about--how could I possibly hope to handle it in the months to come, with bills galore and a full-time job and other independent, adult things to worry about?

I wasn't sure if I could do it. So, my mind turned to the prospect of money.

The goal was no longer to have a polished manuscript--no, it was to have a manuscript ready to sell and several ebooks on the Kindle market, to help the flow of money. If I start making money, I assumed, then I couldn't consider the past year a failure.

No. Just....no.

It dawned on me, halfway through April, just what I was doing. I wasn't writing for myself anymore--I wasn't focusing on the stories I loved more than anything, on the things that actually made me excited to sit down at my desk. I was just writing for the sake of being published, for making money.

I write for the story. I write because there's a message I want to share, characters I want to introduce, a whole world that I want to make known. I write because I have a story to tell, and only I can tell it.

But honestly? That's not why I started.


To be continued next week!

Until later,

- Justyne

A New Motto

A few weeks ago, I was doing something I find myself doing quite often--daydreaming. I was sitting on the couch, with the television on and my web browser of choice open on the laptop in front of me. But my attention wasn't directed toward either of those, as it should have been. Instead, my mind was drifting; wandering to the plot holes I wrestle with, the "what-ifs" that direct my stories, and the words that will make it all come alive.

I like to think that every story has this one line that defines the entire novel. It's the line that you see quoted, over and over again. The line that people get tattooed on the back of their necks, that they scrawl on a scrap of loose leaf and stick on their bedroom wall. That line could be the title; so blatantly obvious that it might as well be highlighted in every copy. That line could be hidden; as eye-popping as the other hundreds of thousands of words that form the story playing out in your mind. Either way, the meaning is the same; it sets the tone for the entire story.

I get my story ideas from endless resources; my dreams, my favourite books or movies, my own life and experiences. I take one little thing from my life and the world around me, and expand it into something bigger.

Sometimes, though, my stories branch from something much simpler: one line. One single line, that expresses a message that I wish to convey through story. This line will often come to me when I'm bumming around, zoning out and in general not paying as much attention as I should be to my surroundings. My mind wanders, stumbles upon a phrase, and the phrase...sticks. It sticks and the next thing I know I'm writing it down, eagerly scribbling it in my journal, so quickly that the words don't followed the lines quite perfectly.

So when I was zoning out last month, completely ignoring my surroundings, a phrase popped into my head. Except this time, it wasn't really a line you could insert into a novel. It wasn't one inspirational, emotionally moving line that would set the tone of whatever future story that my mind would unravel. It was more like...a motto.

Dare to dream big. Live to dream bigger.

The moment it popped into my head, it just felt...right. It felt like everything I've tried to believe in, throughout my whole life, wrapped up into two little sentences; 8 little words.

Dare to dream big. Don't be afraid of having "realistic" goals or career plans. Dare to aim for something out of your wallet's comfort zone; something that might not be achieved with the help of a college degree. If people think less of you for it, prove them wrong. That is your motivation; use it.

Live to dream bigger. Don't settle; don't stop at just one dream. Let yourself have two, five, ten. A thousand. Reach one, make another. As your life changes around you, let your dreams change with it. Don't stop. Never stop. If you think you've reached the top, prove yourself otherwise. Because even when you reach the sky, there are still endless stars waiting for you beyond it.

This phrase has become my motto; the thing I repeat to myself when I start to struggle and feel down. It helps me a little, I think. It helps me remember why I've kept at it for so long; why I left university in the first place. (Which is why I have it typed at the end of my new and improved About Me page.)

I've always wanted a motto. And now, I have one; one that is completely, totally, wholeheartedly me.


Until later,

- Justyne

Different Paths (WFMAD Day 25)

One of the many, many things I love about writing is that there are virtually no restrictions to what you can do. Wanna make it up? Awesome! How about a recount of a true story? Perfect! Wanna talk more about yourself? No problemo, that's what autobiographies and memoirs are for! You can write novels, short stories, poems, plays, movies, TV shows, memoirs, biographies, how-to books, newspaper and magazine articles, comics, video game storylines...there is absolutely no limit.

Something I often like to do, when I start reading a new author, is read their little "About the Author" blurb. I like learning a little about the authors I'm reading--where they grew up, what their family is like, what else they've written...and, more importantly, how they got to where they are.

Because that, you see, is the most important limitless thing there is about writing. There is no "one way" to get there; you cannot google a step-by-step process to getting published. There are different ways of getting your story to the public; getting an agent, self-publishing, putting it on Amazon as an ebook. There are no restrictions or qualifications--all you need is passion, imagination, and, well, a finished story.

Is it possible to learn something if you take some creative writing courses? Yes! Can majoring in English Literature help you? Totally! But it can go the opposite direction, too.

I struggled with my initial decision to take English in school. I used to like English, really I did. But as I got older--particularly when the course name changed from "ELA" to "English Lit"--my fondness of the subject diminished more and more, until it eventually fizzled out into nothing. I never enjoyed the analytical portion of English--the part where you seemingly over-analyze every little word in an old book that you couldn't ever possibly care less about. (Did you know that the last time I read something for English I enjoyed was in 10th grade? 10th grade! We read like a million other books in class after that.)

I know it's probably weird, the fact that I hate English so much (with every fiber of my being, in case you weren't already aware). I mean, I like writing. I like reading. But even though English is composed of those two things, it is completely different, at least for me. I'm reading stories that I, quite frankly, hate beyond belief, and writing analytical essays that are composed of nothing but beaucrap. Two semesters of taking English in university, and not once did I ever have any idea what I was talking about in any of my essays. I was just making it up as I went. (How I managed to pull off an 80 in that class, I'll never know.)

I've heard time and time again that taking English Literature courses are supposed to "help" my writing, but truthfully, I didn't learn anything. Not. A. Thing.

I've considered applying to another school. I've thought about searching for schools with bigger creative writing programs; that actually offer enough that I can take it for four years. I know I'd enjoy it, and it could very well lift my writing to levels I can't even imagine.

But when I really, really think about it...I'm not sure if I really want to. Not right now, anyway.

Right now, I have other plans. Plans that involve my friends; some of the people I care the most in the world for. If I were to travel across the country, to attend one of the few schools I've found that allow programs I'm genuinely interested in...I'd be leaving my friends behind. Right now, that's not what I want. I'm not ready for that.

I don't need to follow some special path to reach what I want; what I've dreamed of for so long. And that's the best part--I can reach it my own way, be it through university or something else entirely.


Until later,

- Justyne

Fears and Definitions

Hey there! How've you been? I haven't seen you in ages! Come on in, have a seat! Can I get you anything? A drink? A snack? A long overdue blog post, perhaps?

I realize that I've been MIA for the past couple of months, and I apologize for that. I've been...struggling, to say the least. I haven't forgotten about blogging; I've just been having trouble finding the right things to say. Or maybe, more like afraid...of voicing what's been on my mind lately.

Do you ever feel that way? Feel scared to tell people what your biggest dream is--especially when it's not the most "realistic" career plan around? Do you ever feel silly talking about your hopes and dreams for the future?

I've felt that way for a while now. Writing is incredibly important to me; it's my passion, the dream that I've held dear since the fourth grade. When I start to tell people about my writing, and what I want to do with it, I feel...kind of raw. Open. Exposed.

My writing is not a secret. This blog is proof of that. I don't go out of my way to keep it hidden. But as I've gotten older, I find myself more and more reluctant to tell people about my writing. It's like I'm afraid of what they'll think about my career path; like I'm afraid that they'll tear my dreams down, say that they're not "realistic enough". That I need to pick something else. Most people assume that I don't want to go back to school because I'm unsure of what job I want, and it's gotten to the point that I neglect to correct them; I just let them think what they want to think.

It's...easier that way, I guess.

I know what I want to do. I know what I want to accomplish. I've known these things since I was nine, and they've never once changed. I'm tired of feeling self-conscious about my dreams because of what others might think of them, and I'm tired of feeling worthless because I'm not living up to my so-called "potential".

And most importantly, I'm tired of feeling like I'll let everyone down if I don't make the right decision.

But see, here's the thing about that: Despite what anyone says, regardless of their profession or age or the amount of experience under their belt, nobody can tell you what the right decision is. Only you can do that. And even though it may feel like everyone around you--your family, your friends, your teachers--are pressuring you to go in another direction...

They will support you.

In the end, it doesn't matter how "normal" or "realistic" your job is. It doesn't matter whether or not you have a degree. It doesn't matter if you need one or two or three extra jobs to help pay the bills. All that matters is that you're happy, and you're doing the thing that you love.

I'm still afraid sometimes. Afraid that no one will like my work. Afraid that maybe it won't turn out like I want it to.

But I'm even more afraid that if I give in--if I return to university, work towards a degree I don't really want and get a "smart" job that I don't really care for--that I'll lose everything. My passion. My dreams. My writing.

You can't define yourself based on the amount of money you make. You can't define yourself based on the career you have, or the size of your house, or how old and run-down your computer is. I think that, if you could only define a person with one thing...it would be their passion for what they love.

I will write. Because regardless of how much money I'm making--if I'm making any at all--it's who I am. I am a writer, and I won't let myself be defined by anything else.

What defines you?


Until later,

- Justyne