Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Books That Inspired Me to Write: I'm Talking to You, Harry Potter Generation

Lately I've felt a little distant from the blog. Perhaps it's because, for the first time in my life, I'm not in a writing class or any schooling of any kind. For a while, I also felt disconnected to writing.

Yay, adulthood, right?

Thankfully, my writing is slowly gaining more inspiration - even if it is mostly made up of rewrites and poems - and I'm working my way back to writing (even if it's nothing but a comma) everyday. 

To keep myself motivated, I've decided to start another Post Series. This time, I'd like to detail the books that inspired me to write. I think it will be therapeutic for me. To be a reminder of why I chose this path, this obsession. And also, I think it will help me bond better with you, my blog readers. I hope I don't feel distant at all ever again :)

Now, let's get down to it. If any of you have popped over to check out my Goodreads profile, you know from my about me section that one book in particular sparked the reading (and writing) bug within me. So, this Tuesday afternoon, we'll start from the very beginning:



My mother was working as an assistant school librarian when she first heard of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Every day she worked, half a dozen fourth graders would bombard the desk, wondering if Harry Potter was in yet, and if it was their turn to receive it. The hold list for our small public school was over 50. Curious as to why this book was so popular, she found a copy and started reading. 

It wasn't too long before she realized she had to share the magical Mr. Potter and his wizarding world with her children. At the time, I was six and my brother hovered somewhere around the ages of seven or eight (I can't recall the exact month). Our first reading session happened while we were staying in a Chicago suburb at my aunt and uncle's house. We were sleeping on the floor of their office, side by side, and my mother sat between us and read, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much." from Chapter One, The Boy Who Lived. 

I can't remember the exact place my mother stopped reading that night. We made it far - far enough to be introduced to Hagrid, the Hogwarts Express, and the Weasleys. She had to go to bed eventually, no matter how much we pleaded for her to keep reading, because she, no doubt, could no longer feel her voice.

I lay awake for a long time. My brother had fallen asleep, his breath coming slowly, turned away from me. I could smell the foreign chemicals my aunt and uncle used to clean their carpet, and from my vantage point on the floor, the almost full moon was visible through their window. Since I was used to sleeping in the darkness and silence of rural Wisconsin, the traffic noise kept me restless. But then something magical happened.

After everyone else had, for sure, gone to sleep, and I alone was awake to hear it, a train whistle blew softly through the noise of the traffic, through the almost full moon, and through the distracting smelly carpet. And I was sure that magic, Harry Potter, Hogwarts, wizards, and friendly giants, were real. And I couldn't get enough.

My obsession with the wizarding world continued through the next six books and eight movies. The final book, The Deathly Hallows, I consumed in a whirlwind, no eating, no bathroom breaks, no sleeping, 34 hour stint. 

Harry Potter was the first book I truly fell in love with. It was the book that taught me reading could transport me from my mundane life into something extraordinary. 

As I got older, I decided I wanted to create worlds just like it. And for a while, I took that inspiration seriously. I imitated Rowling as best I could, writing  many a short story about wizards and witches and magic. Even stories that morphed slightly away from the magic of Hogwarts still had elements of Potter infused in them - the orphaned protagonist, the two best friends, the best boarding school ever...you get the gist. 

Then when I found out JK Rowling was a female author, there was no stopping me. I wanted to be just like her someday. I wanted to write a book or series of books that made people fall in love with literature like her stories had captivated me.

So, yes, it was a scrawny boy under the stairs who first captured my heart. He taught me to love reading, and writing. He taught me to want more from life than Wisconsin offered. He taught me that I wanted to be just like JK. I wanted to be a writer. 

The story continues next Tuesday... 


Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Deathmatch: Begin!

Do you remember this post from March 2014 about the Indie Writer Deathmatch from Broken Pencil?

Well, it's January, the new year has begun, there's a chill in the air, I'm having trouble getting enough blood flow to my fingers to keep typing - and it's time for the 2015 Deathmatch!

Shake out your witty comments, literary armor, and indie reading goggles and head on over to http://www.brokenpencil.com/deathmatch-2015-quarterfinals-round-1 to check out Round One and the all the subsequent DeathMatch mayhem.

It's going to be a good year for writing, my fellow scribes.

My sword of metaphors can sense it.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Goodreads

You're going to laugh at me... I already know it...

But I'm going to admit it to you anyway: I - just today - heard of Goodreads.

I know, I know, how could a bibliophile and writer in her own right not have ever heard of the book-related social media that is Goodreads?

I'm not sure how to answer that question. Looking back on it, I'm sure I've seen their URL splashed across the first page of Google results when researching a new book. I've probably even read some reviews by Goodreads users without fully grasping how glorious of a site it is. Truthfully, I only "heard" of Goodreads by rifling through the new Writer's Digest that showed itself in the mail yesterday evening. The February 2015 issue has an article about expanding your platform on Goodreads, but just reading the features of the site, I wanted to join now!

So, if you're on Goodreads, look me up. Let me know you read the blog and want to be book buddies.

Then, let's review, read, and covet new books. What could possibly be better for the new year?

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

It's Alright.

Today, I'd like to express a little grammar rant. I've fought over this for years with teachers, friends, other writers, passing people at the coffee shop, etc. The giant debate (and source of my raised blood pressure) is the word:

ALRIGHT.

That's right. Alright.

The definition of alright is "satisfactory" "permissible" or "adequate".

Now, are you jumping out of your seat? Do you want to scream at me like many an English professor that the correct spelling is "all right" and that "alright" is not a real word?

That's why I'm here to stand up for alright. Because it is a word. I use it often and anytime I can.

After all, if:

cannot
lifetime
elsewhere
anybody
meantime
everything
nowhere
sometimes
anyone
therefore
and somewhere

can be compounded words acceptable in the English language, why do we deny that simple liberty to alright?

Even other A-L words are allowed to be compounded. Take:

already
and always

as prime examples.

So why not alright? Why do we discriminate against such a perfectly readable and acceptable word?

I will never understand it, but I will always fight for alright's rights. In the name of lower word counts and easier spelling around - alright is the way to go.

Comment if you agree. Or simply keep using alright in your manuscripts and school essays. Take the grade hit for the future of our English language. For the future of alright's freedom.