Thirty-Seven Letters

    The alarm sounds and my eyes fly open. I’ve been waiting a year for this day. Today is the day I get to read the letter addressed to me. I’ve been waiting forever to read her last words to me.

       The first time I had met Calyn she had been a sophomore in high school, and I was a senior. That year we had become really good friends.  She had been fifteen so I never asked her out. Don’t get me wrong, I had wanted too. By the time she was sixteen I was almost ready to go on a mission: I couldn’t get attached to her before I left. Throughout my mission she would email me occasionally, but then about seven months before I was to come home, the emails stopped. And I never knew why.

The last time I had seen Calyn she was waving good-bye as she drove away. I vividly remember calling her the night before I left for my mission.  I thought she was crying by the way her voice sounded, but I didn’t say anything about it. I had told her I would see her in two years. And I honestly believed that I would. I think the biggest shock was when I came home and learned she was gone. It was two days after I got home when I picked up my phone to call her. I remember my mom putting her hand over mine and telling me she needed to talk to me.


About six months into my mission Calyn found out she had cancer. “Why didn’t she tell me,” I asked my mom.

“She told your sister she didn’t want you to worry. She didn’t want you to think about coming home,” my mom’s eyes welled with tears.

“She talked to Jarin before she…before...” I couldn’t say it because I still didn’t believe she was gone.

My mom nodded, “She gave Jarin something to give you when you came home.”

 

I stood in the doorway of Jarin’s room, watching her at the computer. Her fingers rattled away on the key board. “Jarin?”

She turned around, her bright smile fading when she saw me. “Mom tell you?”

I nodded, trying to keep the tears away. “She said Calyn had given you something for me.”

Jarin nodded as she went to her bed, pulling a box from underneath. It was an old box with Calyn’s sleek writing across the tope: Wilder.  

            My little sister handed me the box as her tears dripped onto it. Soon I found that my tears had joined hers on the lid of the box. Jarin wrapped her thin arms around me, the box in between us. I don’t remember how long we stood there, holding onto each other, crying.

                That night in the safety of my room I opened the box and found a short note.

                Wilder,

            I’m sorry, but I need you to do this one thing…well actually its thirty-seven things. Each of these letters is addressed to a person and has a date. If you want to do this, please go in order. Don’t skip letters. I know it’s silly but it means a lot to me. On the date of the first letter give it to the person it is addressed to, read it with them and then move on to the next one.

            ….I’m sorry.

           

I pull my jacket on as I pull myself out of the memory.  I had made it to the thirty-seventh letter. And the letter was addressed to me. For the last year I had delivered the other thirty-six letters. I think I know what she was trying to do when she wrote those letters. Each of the letters was addressed to a mutual friend of ours, someone who had experienced something with us. Each date had been specific to when that experience had occurred. They were all three years apart from whatever the situation had been.

The first letter I delivered was to her mother. Her mom read the letter aloud, it was about the day we had first met and when she had come home and told her mom about it. She told her mom she was sorry and she loved her.

The second letter was to a friend from school. The third was to one of the kids we had worked with. The fifteenth letter was to our government advisor. The twentieth letter was addressed to Calyn’s dad. The twenty-fifth letter was the one year anniversary from when she learned about the cancer, and she had addressed that to her sister. The thirty-third letter had been to my sister. The thirty-fourth was addressed to my parents.

The thirty-seventh was addressed to me. I have the letter tucked in the pocket of my jacket as I make my way to her grave. There isn’t a certain place where she wanted me to read this, but I have a feeling she would want me to read it with her.  The cemetery is deserted when I arrive. The clouds gather thick and grey overhead. I push a hand through my hair as I walk towards where she is buried. 

Tears drip from my face as I sit down next to the grey stone. I trace the name engraved there.

Calyn Jay Hardings

March 14, 1996 – April 25, 2013

I take a deep breath and pull the letter out of my pocket. The handwriting across the top isn’t hers. I break the seal of the envelope and withdrew the letter. My hands are visibly shaking. I take a deep breath before I begin to read the thirty-seventh letter.

Hey Wilder.

If you’re reading this, then thank you for delivering the other letters. And if you aren’t reading this, then I guess these words shall just stay in space. But that isn’t such a bad thing is it?

I think you probably already guessed what those letters where for. I hope they took you through the last two years of my life. From when I met you to when you left. And then everything that happened after you left.  Wilder, I am sorry I didn’t tell you, but you see why don’t you? I didn’t want you to worry and I didn’t want you to think about coming home.

When the doctor first told me I had cancer I couldn’t believe it. It was like a numb feeling and then this stabbing pain. I kept thinking why did this happen to me? But I think it turned out to be a blessing hidden deep, deep in disguise. I met so many amazing kids while I was in the hospital. A four year old boy named Aden recently lost his leg due to cancer, and a little girl, Oliva, just got her wig and Wilder, it made her so happy. I realized there are worse things than having cancer at seventeen. I could have had it when I was seven, before I got to live life, before I got to meet you.

Remember when I used to say you’ve changed my life and you would just laugh at me? I want you to take me seriously right now. You changed my life. The day I met you, you smiled right at me and made me feel right at home. Since then I’ve considered you to be my best friend. I thought a lot about you when you were on your mission and I missed you like crazy. And I thought about what it would be like when you came home.

Maybe I’m just getting the guts to say this now because I know I won’t be there, but I had hoped we would still be friends. In fact, I wanted to be more than friends. I have since I was fifteen. But after you left, I wasn’t sure how I felt.

Then I started going through the chemo therapy. That’s when I really became friends with Jarin. She was there for me when no one else was, Wilder. I seriously love your sister, please let her know that.

There are water marks from where her tears landed while she wrote this, and new marks from where my tears join hers. I angrily push the tears off my cheeks and continue reading.

Do you know what today would have been? One year from the day you should have gotten home. One year from when I would have seen you again. Wilder….I miss you and I’ve been so lucky to get to know you. And I’ve got to tell you that I

There are smudges from where she had erased and re-erased. And that is the last thing on the page. That is the last thing I get to hear from her. The letter just ends there. A single post it note is stuck to the inside of the envelope.

Wilder. She didn’t get to finish this letter before she passed away. I hope you know what you meant to her.

            -Kara

Kara is Calyn’s mother. I would never get to know what Calyn wanted to tell me but I have a pretty good idea that it’s what I want to tell her. I push the tears from my face as I lift myself off the ground. I carefully fold her letter and tuck it back into my pocket. I stand above her grave, gazing down at the headstone for a moment.

                The rain begins to fall from the sky. It drops from the clouds to the earth, cleansing the earth of impurities, washing away the dirt. “I love you too,” I whisper to her, to the rain, to the world. With those words on my lips I turn and walk away, the thirty-seventh letter seeming to burn inside my pocket.

 

 

 

 

Rebel

  For years the building seemed to call to me. It was nothing but an old, run down, yellow-bricked building. It had been abandoned for almost a century, ever since the third world war. It was a run-down building sitting in a run-down town. The color on the bricks had almost been worn away and the roof had crumbled in a long time ago. It was nothing extraordinary. It looked…well, it was deserted. But there was something so strange about this building. As if it were a magnet and I was a piece of metal. I was inexplicably drawn to it. The shadow loomed over me as I stood before this building I had longed to enter. I knew myself all too well. If I waited another moment I would chicken out. Without another thought I pushed against the wooden doors.

 For a moment all I could see was darkness. No natural light penetrated the abandoned halls of this building. Slowly shapes began to emerge in my view. There was no dust on the floor. Actually there was no dust anywhere. The inside of the building was in perfect condition. Long metal tables were neatly placed throughout the room, papers were left scattered across the tops. It looked as if the workers were only on a lunch break and would be back any moment. My eyes drifted to the stairs that led to the second floor, they were in perfect condition, but the material they were made from didn't match the rest of the building. The steps were made of crude wood while the rest was a slick metal. The stairs had been replaced. Mindlessly I made my way from room to room, searching for any sign that would tell me why I had been drawn here.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" A deep voice shouted. Panic gripped my heart like a vice and instincts took over like autopilot. I began to run. I didn't know where I was running to, or who I was running from. All I knew was that I was running. I could hear footsteps pounding on the floor behind me. I was being chased, and from the sound of the steps, they were gaining on me. But I couldn't stop running; if I stopped it meant I didn't have a chance. If I kept going, I at least had a shot. A slim shot, but a slim shot was better than no shot.

 Arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground. A scream bubbled up inside me but was cut off by a hand clamped over my mouth. "I don't want to hurt you," the deep voice whispered. "I just need to know how you found me. I'm going to let you go now, okay? Are you going to scream or try to run again?" I shook my head, moving his hand with me.

  "Good," he mumbled as he released me. I stumbled forward, putting as much distance between me and this stranger as I dared. Turning towards him the first thing I noticed were the markings. Both of his arms were crisscrossed with dark brown markings. They seemed to be in some kind of pattern, but I couldn't tell what. My eyes flickered up to his face. He was young, maybe eighteen. Blond hair fell onto his forehead, nearly covering his electric blue eyes. A thin, pale scar on his cheek stood out against his otherwise tan skin.
"Who are you?"
 "Jarin." I said, resenting the fear that caused my voice to quiver.
"What's your full name?"
"Jarin Believe Jones."
 His brown eyebrows arched up, "Believe? Are you serious?"
  I put a thin hand on my hip, "Yeah I'm serious. Is there something wrong with my name?"
A slight grin graced his face, "Not at all. I actually like it."
 "And what's your name?"
A full grin overcame his face, "Rebel."
 "Your name's Rebel and you had the nerve to laugh at my name?"
"You'll learn that my name happens to fit me very well, thank you very much." 

 My breath caught in my throat. Rebels. There were whispers of rebels in the outer cities, in the abandoned cities. But that couldn't be true....could it?

  "Are you....Are you one of the rebels?" My fists clutched the fabric of my pants, trying to hide their shaking.

 He cocked one eyebrow and grinned, "Follow me and find out." He brushed past me, walking down the hall. I stared at Rebel's back for one second before running after him. I had to know.

Two Years

   The stage lights glared in her face. Jordynn could hear the low mumbling of a crowded auditorium. Of course it was packed; it was graduation day. She breathed in slowly. It was one five minute speech. It wasn't anything she hadn't done before. This was easy compared to the rest of her senior year. The ceremony seemed to pass in slow motion. The only think she could think about was if he was there. He had said he'd be back by graduation, but that didn't mean that he was. After the ceremony she did all the traditions. Taking pictures with friends and family, tons and tons of pictures. But the moment she had a chance to escape she did. Pulling the heels off her feet she made her way up to the football field. The metal bleachers sat empty before her.
   She choose a seat in the center of the stadium and just sat there, thinking. For four years this had been her life. Now this part of here life was at an end, and she had another life to live in three months. It was a surreal feeling. It felt almost as a dream would. Jordynn wasn't sure she had been sitting there when she heard the approaching footsteps echo off the bleachers. Her head snapped up, her breath caught in her throat as she saw her best friend for the first time in two years. He looked so different, so grown up. His hair was shorter, and he seemed taller. But he was still Josh. She stood up and made her way into his outstretched arms. Her graduation cap tumbled from her head but she paid no attention to it. They seemed to stand there, just holding each other for what felt like forever. He pulled back and stared at her. Pushing a strand of black hair from her flushed cheek he whispered, "Hi." Hi. It was such a simple thing to say after two years of not saying anything.
  Jordynn grinned, "Hi." They seemed to stare at each other for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. He leaned down towards her, she held her breath, though she wasn't sure why. His lips were a hair away from hers when he paused. "May I?"
   "Yeah," she breathed. He smiled slightly before leaning down to kiss her. She couldn't believe it. Two years he had been gone, sometimes it felt like he might never come back. She pulled back and just smiled at him. It seemed to be the only thing she could do. Smile.
   Again he pushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "We go to college in three months. I know three months together isn't enough to make up for two years apart, but it'd be worth a shot. To see what happens, I mean. Do you...I mean...would you.." his voice faltered.
  She slipped her hand in his as they began to walk away from the football field, "I know what you mean."
  "Good," he whispered and then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

BOOK REVIEW: Dangerous

Book Review: Dangerous By Shannon Hale
    Hello Internet World! So I got this book yesterday and just finished it. The only time I put it down was for school. So I naturally I need to share it with someone! Anyone! The book is Dangerous by Shannon Hale.  Shannon Hale is probably best known for Goose Girl, Princess Academy and Austin Land. Her books are usually directed to either a younger audience or an adult audience. I've read all her books and really enjoy all of them. Well now she's published one directed to the teenagers. Dangerous. And Shannon proves she can write to all audiences.
    So spoiler free review?
     Dangerous is about Maisie Danger Brown, a completely ordinary teenager from Salt Lake City, Utah. Maisie has been homeschooled because she is missing her right arm. She was born without it. Her small world contains her parents and her friend Luther, who is also homeschooled. Maisie has always dreamed about being an astronaut and when she gets the chance to enter a sweepstakes to go to an astronaut boot camp she takes it.  And she wins. When she gets to the camp she meets Jonathan Ingalls Wilder, who is just called Wilder (like all teenage boys who suddenly to go by their last name).  They are put into fireteams for drills. Maisie meets Ruth, Mi-sun, and Jacques. The winning team gets to go up to space. Wilder is added to Maisie's team as they go into space. And this is where things go crazy.
     Throughout the book I thought "oh it'll be okay because it's a kids book right?" Then I reminded myself, "Oh wait....nope I pulled it outta the teen section..." Shannon Hale really did a great job with this book. There is love and hate and emotion and fear and adventure and just...ahhh! I really loved the book. Probably in my top 10. I think Maisie has a strong, yet relatable character, and there is just so much about this book I just loved! Go read it! NOWWWWW!!!!! :)
   Now for the spoiler FILLED review! :)
     I'm usually not a science fiction kinda girl, but I really loved the way Hale handled it. It wasn't pure science fiction, not pure adventure, not pure romance. It had a little bit of everything which I think will appeal to a lot of people.  I think Hale developed such deep characters that I just fell in love with.  So let's do this by the two main characters because I don't know how else I should go about this.
Maisie Danger Brown: I love Maisie's character. I think she is really strong yet vulnerable at the same time. She isn't just standing there like, "Oh someone save me!" But she isn't like "That's right I have no fear. Eat dust aliens!" She's afraid yet still does what she needs to do to save herself, her family and the world. Maisie is missing her right arm, and has been since birth. I love that Shannon created a flawed heroine. Maisie doesn't let her disability stand in her way. She is all around a strong character with a relatable personality and emotions. It was so interesting to watch her grow throughout the story. As she battled her feelings for Wilder, you could see her becoming more aware of the world and losing a bit of her innocence. Her character progression didn't feel forced by the writer, it felt natural. As if it could happen to any one.  So Maisie defiantly is going onto my list of top heroines.  Agreed?
Now while I love Maisie, I am so completely intrigued by Jonathan Ingalls Wilder.
Jonathan Ingalls Wilder: I can't even begin to explain the emotions I went through with this guy. Gosh I was more confused than Maisie.  When we first meet him he has this bad boy kinda vibe. He is very flirty and charming. I instantly liked him. Some will probably disagree with that. I liked when he took his dad's car and just drove with Maisie. That might have to do with the fact that I want it to happen to me, but just look past that for a minute. I feel like there are three phases of Jonathan Ingalls Wilder's character development. For the first half of the book he is called Wilder. For the second half Maisie calls him the Wild Card and for the last few pages she refers to him as Jonathan. I think each of these name changes represent something within Wilder and within Maisie herself. Going by a last name is something that a lot of teenage guys at my school do to put on a show. It's almost like they are detaching themselves, trying to be something they are not. I think this is what Wilder is. It is a show. He puts on a show to please his dad, to please the people around him, to please Maisie. When she starts referring to him as The Wild Card it is his "hero" name. With the token he has become another person. The Wild Card suggests something dangerous and uncontrollable, which is exactly what he has become. Maisie thinks the tokens have turned him into another person completely. The Wild Card starts when Jonathan breaks away from his dad and starts doing his own thing. It's another shift in his character. Now my personal favorite is Jonathan. It's a real name. No more showy Wilder, no more superhuman Wild Card. He is just Jonathan. Jonathan isn't putting on an act for anybody. This is the climax of his character development.
Overall I really loved this book. I thought the characters were all very interesting, the plot was strong and unique, and while there was a slight love triangle it wasn't the focus of the book and didn't take away from the plot or characters. I would highly recommend this book!! 
  Has anyone else read it? I don't know anyone else who has and would love to get some feed back or opinions besides my own. Did you like it? Or did you think it was cheesy and cliché? If you've read it let me know in the comments below!  Oh and any book recommendations, toss those down there too!

The General

   Eliza Hardings rung her hands together, attempting to twist the anxious shaking from them. The war had ended five weeks ago. He had promised he would return within three weeks of the war. It had been five weeks since the nation had been rejoined and General Adams hadn't been seen or heard from. The worst of thoughts ran through her mind. What if he had been killed at the Battle of Gettysburg? What if he was seriously injured? What if he just decided he didn't love her anymore? Decided that she wasn't worth returning to?  She tried to go about her chores on the farm, but the anxiety for General Adams's safety was ever present on her mind. Would she ever know what had happened to him?
   She sat on the old milking stool by the cow. As the milk plopped into the tin bucket, the tears began to run down her cheeks. When she heard the barn door creak open a minute later she furiously wiped the tears from her face. Her step-father loathed when she cried. He called her weak, a coward who couldn't face the world. If her mother could only see how her second husband was treating her daughter now that she was gone. "Sorry sir," she said as the footsteps approached. She braced herself for the slap that was sure to come. The man was right behind her, yet no stinging slap came.
    "Eliza?" A deep voice questioned. Her breath caught in her throat. She feared turning around, feared that she had only imagined the beloved voice. A gentle hand touched her shoulder as he whispered her name again, "Eliza."
     In a second she was on her feet, staring silently at General Jared Adams. His blond hair had grown since she had last seen him, almost two months ago. His blue eyes seemed locked on hers. An open gash ran down the right side of his face. She reached out, her fingers softly trailing over the mark. He smiled down at her before pulling her to him. Five weeks had been too long for both of them. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly.
    The door to the barn flew open, startling both Jared and Eliza. Her step-father, Edward, loomed in the doorway. The expression on his face was nearly as dark as the storm clouds brewing on the horizon. "Who are you?" Edward's words slurred together: he had been drinking far too much again. Eliza clutched her skirt tightly with her fists to hid the shaking of her hands. She knew what her step-father was capable of; she had been the victim of his violent fits more than once.
    Jared stepped forward, placing himself between Eliza and the drunken man. "General Jared Adams of the Union, sir." Jared stuck his out towards Edward. The older man just stared at it for a moment before Jared lowered it.
  "Get out of my barn."
   "Yes, sir," Jared reached behind him, taking her hand in his, "Come on Eliza."  Her knees felt weak, fear constricted her breathing: she thought she might pass out. As the couple came closer to Edward he stepped into their path, pulling a revolver from the band of his pants.
  "She's not going anywhere, solider." The gun swung lazily from Eliza to Jared and back again. Fear paralyzed her. For four years she had lived with the constant cloud of fear hanging over her heart. Jared dropped her hand, and then lunged towards Edward, attempting to wrestle the gun from him. A shot sounded and the bullet ricocheted across the building, striking a wooden beam.
   Jared was stronger than her step-father, and managed to get the gun away from him before tossing it across the barn.  With one punch to the face, Edward was sprawled unconscious on the dirt floor.  "Come on," Jared beckoned her forward. They walked out of the barn, leaving the drunken man where he had fallen.
   Jared's blue eyes pierced hers, "Is there anything you need to get?"
  Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
  "Is there anything you need to get before we leave?" He clarified.
   She shook her head, her dark brown hair swinging over her thin shoulders, "No, I have nothing of value." He didn't wait for her to say anything else before he lifted her onto his horse. General Adams mounted behind her and nudged the horse with his heels. As they began to ride away, Eliza almost swore she could hear a scream followed by a gunshot. She shuddered and leaned back against the young general. She was safe now. Fear could no longer be her companion.

A Different Point of View

To us our world seems normal. But if someone else was to become you or see into your life for a day, what would they think? I was challenged to see my world through a different point of view. So I took a camera and went to it.


<- These are a few of my friends and this is a typical day for us.  Normal? Maybe not. Fun? Obviously!

 

<- How can you look at this and not love it?  I'm the kind of person who sees something like this and just has to take a picture...obviously :)


<- This is defiantly the best part of my room. My picture of Paris overlooking my crazy stacks of books.
 <- Homework.....


<- This is the last four years of my life in fictional form. I have a drawer in my desk where all my work goes. This is stuff that I wrote down quickly in class or things I want to save for future stories when it will work better.


One of the great things about writing is that we get to expand and explore our views on life and the world. So my world involves books, writing books, homework, my crazy friends and randomly fun stuff that makes my day. What's your world like?

 



The Editing Process

  I think editing is probably one of the best/worst parts of writing anything. The best because I can go through and add new ideas that come later or delete old ideas taht weren't as good as I first thought they were. The worst because it takes forever and some of your changes can be really mnor. Here's the process I went through to write a short story about having John Green (author of The Fault in Our Stars) inside my head.

Final Draft:

The headache pounds throughout my head. He pushes against my brain, weaving his way into the front of my thoughts. John Green, yes the John Green, the tear jerker, heart-breaker John Green, is inside my head. And the first thing I hear from him is “NERDFIGHTERS!”

“What?” I question him. Every time he comes into my thoughts, I feel his energy seeping into me.

I can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks, “What’s the great plan for today?”

I roll my eyes, “There isn’t one John. I’ve got homework and I don’t really consider that to be great. And unless you know how to do trig functions, I’d really appreciate it if you went away.”

He is silent for a moment, “Pull out the assignment and I’ll help.” Now one thing you’ve got to understand about John Green, he is a genius. Yes, Yes I am. Stay out of this John, I’m telling the story. Okay, sorry.  Like I was saying, John Green is a genius; you’d know this if you’ve read any of his books. AWW, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. John…. Right, sorry.  But he gets distracted, like VERY distracted. I can feel him looking around the room, taking in the pictures of Paris and New York, taking in the books scattered randomly across the floor.

“Why do you stay here?” he asks.

I shrug, “What’s wrong with here?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. But don’t you want to see the world?”  

“There are just bigger things on my mind right now then seeing the world.”

“That’s not true. The world is literally bigger than your problems. Your problems have no physical mass so there for the world weighs like ten billion times more than your problems.”

“Okay smarty pants; don’t go using science on me. I’m trying to work on pre-calc.”

But with John Green inside your head it’s hard to focus on anything. He’s got scenes and scenes from different books, published and unpublished, that scroll through his head like a movie. The car scene from The Fault in Our Stars, the crash from Looking for Alaska, and so many other scenes that I couldn’t identify but deeply wanted to know what story went with them. John’s mind was like a constant motion picture from at least eight different books. The cutting was rough, the picture not crystal clear, but John knew these scenes and knew how to tell them.

Sometimes it still caught me off guard; John Green was inside my head. His brilliant mind, filled with quotes that could change the world, was inside of my completely average teenage mind. I think some people would kill to have John Green inside their heads. He was a brilliant writer and a pure genius. But sometimes his excitement and energy overwhelmes me. I don’t want to run off and explore the dark side of me or anything like that. But ever since I met John, I crave adventure and inspiration and something bigger than just the small life I’ve been living.  

John Green gave me this desire I didn’t know I had, to want to see something other than the snowcapped mountains of Bountiful, Utah. He made me want to see the volcanoes of El Salvador, the Eiffel Tower of Paris and the skyline of New York. He made me want to explore the world, the places of the world that buzzed with excitement and screamed about adventure. There was something so great about the “Great Unknown” and I didn’t want to have to wait till I was dead to find it.

There is so much more to see than just my little bubble. When the time comes and I pop my bubble, it would be a chance to learn so much and see so much and some of it I wouldn’t be able to unsee. The world was filled with many beautiful and wonderful things, but for every beautiful thing there was one thing that was the opposite. It was dark and dreary and could shatter me into a thousand tiny pieces. 

                “The World is a big place,” John says, “and you’ll see things that you wish you’d never seen before, but there will be things that make you breathless.  Those beautiful things are what make this all worth it. You won’t, and shouldn’t, be able to push the horrible things from your mind because those are what make the wonderful things so wonderful.”

                “Great John,” I mumbled, “now I lost track of where I was in the trig problem.”

                There was silence. Sometimes I wonder if I actually have John Green inside my head. Or had I come to know him so well through his books that I just thought he was there? I think parts of writers stick with us, even after we’ve closed their books. That’s what makes a brilliant writer; parts of them will stay with us after we’ve read their books. They put a part of their soul into this book and now I’ve come to know them through this book. Maybe I had just read so much from John that I felt as if part of him was inside of me. When really, I had no more of him than anyone else who had read his works.

 

Third Draft:

 

The headache pounds throughout my head. He pushes against my brain, weaving his way into the front of my thoughts. John Green, yes the John Green, the tear jerker, heart-breaker John Green, is inside my head. And the first thing I hear from him is “NERDFIGHTERS!”

“What?” I question him. Every time he comes into my thoughts, I feel his energy seeping into me.

I can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks, “What’s the great plan for today?”

I roll my eyes, “There isn’t one John. I’ve got homework and I don’t really consider that to be great. And unless you know how to do trig functions, I’d really appreciate it if you went away.”

He is silent for a moment, “Pull out the assignment and I’ll help.” Now one thing you’ve got to understand about John Green, he is a genius. Yes, Yes I am. Stay out of this John, I’m telling the story. Okay, sorry.  Like I was saying, John Green is a genius; you’d know this if you’ve read any of his books. AWW, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. John…. Right, sorry.  But he gets distracted, like VERY distracted. I can feel him looking around the room, taking in the pictures of Paris and New York, taking in the books scattered randomly across the floor.

“Why do you stay here?” he asks.

I shrug, “What’s wrong with here?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. But don’t you want to see the world?”  

“There are just bigger things on my mind right now then seeing the world.”

“That’s not true. The world is literally bigger than your problems. Your problems have no physical mass so there for the world weighs like ten billion times more than your problems.”

“Okay smarty pants; don’t go using science on me. I’m trying to work on pre-calc.”

But with John Green inside your head it’s hard to focus on anything. He’s got scenes and scenes from different books, published and unpublished, that scroll through his head like a movie. John’s mind was like a constant motion picture from at least eight different books. The cutting was rough, the picture not crystal clear, but John knew these scenes and knew how to tell them.

I don’t want to run off and explore the dark side of me or anything like that. But ever since I met John, I crave adventure and inspiration and something bigger than just the small life I’ve been living.  

                “The World is a big place,” John says, “and you’ll see things that you wish you’d never seen before, but there will be things that make you breathless.  Those beautiful things are what make this all worth it. You won’t, and shouldn’t, be able to push the horrible things from your mind because those are what make the wonderful things so wonderful.”

                “Great John,” I mumbled, “now I lost track of where I was in the trig problem.”

                There was silence. Sometimes I wonder if I actually have John Green inside my head. Or had I come to know him so well through his books that I just thought he was there? I think parts of writers stick with us, even after we’ve closed their books. That’s what makes a brilliant writer; parts of them will stay with us after we’ve read their books. They put a part of their soul into this book and now I’ve come to know them through this book. Maybe I had just read so much from John that I felt as if part of him was inside of me. When really, I had no more of him than anyone else who had read his works.

Second Draft:

The headache pounds throughout my head. He pushes against my brain, weaving his way into the front of my thoughts. John Green, yes the John Green, the tear jerker, heart-breaker John Green, is inside my head. And the first thing I hear from him is “NERDFIGHTERS!”

“What?” I question him. Every time he comes into my thoughts, I feel his energy seeping into me.

I can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, “What’s the great plan for today?”

I roll my eyes, “There isn’t one John. I’ve got homework and I don’t really consider that to be great. And unless you know how to do trig functions, I’d really appreciate it if you went away.”

He is silent for a moment, “Pull out the assignment and I’ll help.” Now one thing you’ve got to understand about John Green, he is a genius. But he gets distracted, like VERY distracted. I can feel him looking around the room, taking in the pictures of Paris and New York, taking in the books scattered randomly across the floor.

“Why do you stay here?” he asks.

I shrug, “What’s wrong with here?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. But don’t you want to see the world?”  

“There are just bigger things on my mind right now then seeing the world.”

“That’s not true. The world is literally bigger than your problems. Your problems have no physical mass so there for the world weighs like ten billion times more than your problems.”

“Okay smarty pants; don’t go using science on me. I’m trying to work on pre-calc.”

But with John Green inside your head it’s hard to focus on anything. He’s got scenes and scenes from different books, published and unpublished, that scroll through his head like a movie. The car scene from The Fault in Our Stars, the crash from Looking for Alaska, and so many other scenes that I couldn’t identify but deeply wanted to know what story went with them. John’s mind was like a constant motion picture from at least eight different books. The cutting was rough, the picture not crystal clear, but John knew these scenes and knew how to tell them.

I don’t want to run off and explore the dark side of me or anything like that. But ever since I met John, I crave adventure and inspiration and something bigger than just the small life I’ve been living.  

                “The World is a big place,” John says, “and you’ll see things that you wish you’d never seen before, but there will be things that make you breathless.  Those beautiful things are what make this all worth it. You won’t, and shouldn’t, be able to push the horrible things from your mind because those are what make the wonderful things so wonderful.”

                “Great John,” I mumbled, “now I lost track of where I was in the trig problem.”

                There was silence. Sometimes I wonder if I actually have John Green inside my head. Or had I come to know him so well through his books that I just thought he was there? I think parts of writers stick with us, even after we’ve closed their books. That’s what makes a brilliant writer; parts of them will stay with us after we’ve read their books. They put a part of their soul into this book and now I’ve come to know them through this book. Maybe I had just read so much from John that I felt as if part of him was inside of me. When really, I had no more of him than anyone else who had read his works.

First Draft:

The headache pounds throughout my head. He pushes against my brain, weaving his way into the front of my thoughts. John Green was inside my head.  Every time he comes into my thoughts, I feel his energy seeping into me.

I can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, “What’s the great plan for today?”

I roll my eyes, “There isn’t one John. I’ve got homework and I don’t really consider that to be great. And unless you know how to do trig functions, I’d really appreciate it if you went away.”

But with John Green inside your head it’s hard to focus on anything. He’s got scenes and scenes from different books, published and unpublished, that scroll through his head like a movie. The car scene from The Fault in Our Stars, the crash from Looking for Alaska, and so many other scenes that I couldn’t identify but deeply wanted to know what story went with them. John’s mind was like a constant motion picture from at least eight different books. The cutting was rough, the picture not crystal clear, but John knew these scenes and knew how to tell them.

I don’t want to run off and explore the dark side of me or anything like that. But ever since I met John, I crave adventure and inspiration and something bigger than just the small life I’ve been living.  

                “The World is a big place,” John says, “and you’ll see things that you wish you’d never seen before, but there will be things that make you breathless.  Those beautiful things are what make this all worth it. You won’t, and shouldn’t, be able to push the horrible things from your mind because those are what make the wonderful things so wonderful.”

                “Great John,” I mumbled, “now I lost track of where I was in the trig problem.”

                There was silence. Sometimes I wonder if I actually have John Green inside my head. Or had I come to know him so well through his books that I just thought he was there? I think parts of writers stick with us, even after we’ve closed their books. That’s what makes a brilliant writer; parts of them will stay with us after we’ve read their books. They put a part of their soul into this book and now I’ve come to know them through this book. Maybe I had just read so much from John that I felt as if part of him was inside of me. When really, I had no more of him than anyone else who had read his works.

Rought Draft:

“The World is a big place,” John says, “and you’ll see things that you wish you’d never seen before, but there will be things that make you breathless.  Those beautiful things are what make this all worth it. You won’t, and shouldn’t, be able to push the horrible things from your mind because those are what make the wonderful things so wonderful.”

                “Great John,” I mumbled, “now I lost track of where I was in the trig problem.”

                There was silence. Sometimes I wonder if I actually have John Green inside my head. Or had I come to know him so well through his books that I just thought he was there? I think parts of writers stick with us, even after we’ve closed their books. That’s what makes a brilliant writer; parts of them will stay with us after we’ve read their books. They put a part of their soul into this book and now I’ve come to know them through this book. Maybe I had just read so much from John that I felt as if part of him was inside of me. When really, I had no more of him than anyone else who had read his works.

Usually when I edit my wrok I condence the material but with this one I just kept adding more stuff to it.  Writing is weird like that. There aren't any rules to what you can and cannot do. If you haven't read any of John Green's books I would HIGHLY reccomend you do. What's editing like for you guys? Do you like it? Hate it? Love it? Really could care less about it? Let me know what you think in the comments below!

BOOK REVIEW: The Fault In Our Stars

The Fault in Our Stars- By: John Green
      Where to begin, where to begin? I guess with a spoiler-free review if you haven't read the book. And if you haven't read it, I don't know why you are reading this review and not the book. If you are waiting for an invite to read it, this is it. Now go get the book and read it!!!! 
       The Fault in Our Stars is the story of sixteen-year-old Hazel who has cancer. After a medical miracle, Hazel's life has been extended a couple of years. Her parents have her go to a cancer support group, where she meets  Augustus Waters, who is a cancer survivor.  You probably guessed it, they begin to fall in love. While this might sound cliché and just another teenage romance novel, it is so much more. John Green is an amazing author who captures his characters perfectly. The book is filled with amazing quotes and ideas about life.  Don't believe me? Here are a few of my favorite:
   "That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt."
    "I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once."
    "My thoughts are like stars I cannot fathom into constellations."
      So over-all review?  This book has stuff that will make you laugh, leave you sobbing, and make you fall in love with everything about the book. It's the best book I've ever read. And I've read quite a few books. ;)
 That's the end of the spoiler-free review. Did ya get that? The next part has SPOILERS!! So if you haven't read the book yet, stop reading NOW! Don't ruin the book before you've read it.


   Let's just start with Hazel's character. John Green does such an amazing job at capturing the mind of a teenage girl. I didn't feel like it was John Green telling me Hazel's story, I felt as if Hazel was telling me the story. She isn't necessarily a like-able character. Now don't get me wrong, I actually really love Hazel. But she isn't a sugar-coated, "Life is great" kind of girl. She is real and she is angry about her cancer.
    Augustus Waters on the other hand is a very charming character. From the moment he was introduced, I fell in love with him. When he put that cigarette in his mouth for the first time, I was just as mad as Hazel. Like really? You've had cancer!! And you pay people to give you more cancer!!!! But as soon as he told her it was a metaphor, I was sold. Augustus and Hazel both embody this intelligence that John Green himself has.
   There were so many points of this book that I just melted at. I loved how Gus always referred to her as "Hazel Grace." It was such a simple thing that I just loved.  I loved Isaac's character and the way Green allowed us to observe him coping with losing his eyes. Between Isaac, Hazel and Gus we see almost every level of coping with problems. I loved the trophy smashing scene and the egg-throwing scene. With the trophies I thought it shows a lot of Gus's character. When he tells Isaac to use something that will break, it shows that Gus has gone through a lot in his life and knows that it takes a lot to help the emotions: and be real, a chair is just not going to cut it.
     Monica, she's an interesting character, even though we only see her once in the entire book. She leaves Isaac, and we are mad. We are hurt for him and we are just mad. But can any of us really blame her? Maybe you wouldn't leave your loved one, but you can understand why she did can't you? Like they said, "You have to deal with it. She doesn't." So I can understand where Monica is coming from, I don't agree with her choice, but I can see where she is coming from.
    Did anyone else think that the story was going to end mid-sentence like the book Hazel and Gus read? Or was that just me? When we realized that Gus was the sicker one, it was like a whole shift of what I was thinking would happen. I believe this is the point in the book that I started to cry. And I don't think I stopped until about two days after I finished the book. As Gus gets sicker and sicker, it's not pretty and Hazel doesn't try to make it seem that way. It was real and sad and awful. It seriously ripped my heart out! Thanks a lot John Green....thanks a lot.
    It was interesting how Hazel went from being the sickest out of the trio (her, Gus and Isaac) to being the "healthiest." Isaac is blind and needs help to go anywhere and Gus is dying of cancer, true Hazel is too, but Gus is dying faster.  The funeral that Gus holds for himself was such a heart-wrenching part that I just...ahhh I just can't handle it.
   Now for the real funeral...did anyone else just cry? Yes....okay good so it wasn't just me.  When Hazel takes her tubes off and walks to the casket, putting the cigarettes into his hand, oh gosh I just lost it there. This is the point in the book that we see how strong of a character Hazel is. Like Gus's parents said this wasn't just puppy love. I think I get emotional at this part because I can't imagine what it would be like to lose someone I loved so much. The whole scene really resonates with a wide range of people. It's something we can all sympathize with and cry for.
   One last thing that I just NEED to say! Gus's letter to Peter (the author of An Imperial Affliction) was just amazing. "You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices."
  Okay I think that about covers everything I wanted to say..I hope so because I think I'm running out of space to write anymore. So have you read The Fault in Our Stars? What did you think? Did anyone else cry as hard as I did? What were your favorite parts? And if you didn't like it, that's okay too, what about it didn't you like? Have you seen the trailer for the movie? What do you think? Will you go see it (and bring a lot of tissues?) Let me know what you guys think down in the comments!
   

Hello Internet World

Welcome to my blog, I guess :). I've loved books and movies since I was a kid. Sometimes I would rather read a book than hang out with friends, because fictional characters tend to be less annoying than actual people. Not always, but sometimes. Besides reading, I also love to write. So this blog will probably consist of a lot of my original writing, quotes from authors you may or may not know and also some book and/or movie reviews. I'm always looking for new things to read or watch, so if you have any suggestions put them down in the comment box. So Internet World, welcome to my blog and I'm excited to get to know you through the computer screens. Don't you just feel connected already?!?