Thursday, October 29, 2009
The name stemmed out of an assignment I had to do a couple years ago for a writing class I was taking; I was asked to write a brief paper on what I would title an autobiography, if ever I wrote one. My Name is Not King was my answer and in the paper I explained why. Now, with a little bit more background and detail, I will explain again.
When I was in preschool my career aspirations where slightly unusual; I wanted to be a "Juice Maker," I had a strange interest in the process of creating frozen and canned juice concentrate. By the time I reached elementary school I decided that being a veterinarian would be a better choice, I loved animals and it seemed like a pretty decent job. I stuck with this idea up until about 7th grade, when I decide what I really wanted to do was live alone in a cabin or maybe a cave in the woods and be a wildlife rehabilitator and work with birds of prey. The idea was a little far fetched and it originally came out of a book I read called My Side of the Mountain (about a boy who runs away from home and lives in the Catskills, with a falcon he rescues and trains)I was pretty set in this plan; I did lots of research, wrote letters to current rehabilitators and waited for the day I could be licensed for this job at the age of eighteen.
But one fateful day in May of 2004 that changed. As I was sitting at my little white, three-drawed desk in our mudroom/school room I took about a blue spiral notebook and began writing a story about a girl named Alexandra. There I was, suddenly with beginning, middle and end in my head, scrawling it out onto lined paper. I didn't know why, I never had really liked the name Alexandra, I never had considered far off fantasy lands outside of the ones I had read about and I had never once before thought about plotting out a full length story. It was RANDOM. School was ending and I guess I just looked at it as something to keep me busy over the summer...but somehow my sister got word that I was writing a book and when her friends were over on a Friday afternoon she dragged (literally.) me down to our basement playroom and made me read it to her and the three other girls (oh, you know who you are...) This became our weekly routine; the 4 of them wouldn't let anyone go home until I had read that week's chapters aloud.
A couple of weeks went by and I had quite a chunk of book done. Once again I am sitting at the little desk in our mudroom writing furiously. All of a sudden a divine shift occurs as I am looking up at the white wall in front of me; in that moment I went from knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up to knowing what God had meant me to be.
I was a writer.
Then and there I realized my life had been building up to that moment and I hadn't even noticed. All throughout my childhood I loved written words. My mom had spent years encouraging my creative writing skills. We have boxes of the stuff I wrote as a little kid, sheets of wide lined paper filled with highly pointless stories and the unrefined illustrations that accompanied them; I can't exactly say I was a prodigy, but I was definitely comfortable with a pen in my hand. She would also take us to the library regularly; we would leave with 50- 60 books, which we would easily finish off in 3 weeks time. My dad had also greatly contributed my love of books, but he did it by means of bedtime stories. Only, I wasn't a princess in a castle type of girl, so instead I was privileged with the reading of classical literature. I think the first was The Hobbit. By the time I was about eight he was reading my sister and I The Call of the Wild, next came Oliver Twist, followed by an attempt at Treasure Island (we never made it all the way through that one though...) Romeo and Juliet, and sometime later Watership Down. Instead of evil stepmothers and frog-kissin' females, my sister and I listened to tales about greedy dragons, groups of dwarves, sled dogs and their drivers, orphans and pickpockets in London, pirates and treasure hunters, the strained relationships of the Montagues and Capulets, and the cultural, political and social issues of rodents. That definitely isn't normal, but I must say that it helped shaped the person that I am. I wasn't ever really into normal anyway.
This is the part where most people start thinking I am crazy. After all, isn't writing a hobby and not a career? "I hope you marry well..." "I hope you don't starve..." "Have fun living in a cardboard box..." Yup, I've heard it all. Being a vet would have definitely been a more seemingly "acceptable" career choice, or maybe a nurse, a doctor, or even a lawyer like my dad. Those jobs are all great and lovely, but they are not my job.
I believe that sometimes what bothers you most you are meant to fix. One thing that bothers me greatly is literature for youth. It's...garbage! (time for a mom quote: "Garbage in, garbage out.") I won't list certain books (oh, I COULD!), but the stuff out there infuriates me. I walk into libraries and book stores, step into the young adult section and literally get angry. I am going to change that. I fully believe I am meant to. I've even taken pictures of the places my books will someday find themselves on the shelves.
Yeah, maybe it sounds a little crazy...but I am dreaming God-sized dreams. Dreams so big that I can't POSSIBLY accomplish them in and of myself (and also, I can't take any credit). I get told a lot that writing isn't an actual job and that I should pursue something else. But this I know, my Father (the Heavenly One, not the lawyerly one) wrote the best selling book of all time. Don't even bother trying to convince me that I can't write.
Do I sound cocky? Sorry, it's just that I am fully confident in who He is and who He has made me to be. And NOTHING is impossible.
Now, I won't ruin the plot of my book for you (which is now in final edit stage), that way you can buy it and read it yourself someday. This whole publishing deal takes a LOT longer than I had ever expected, back when I was filling up notebooks with my story. I've seen a lot of drafts and a lot of hard work. But that book WILL see publishing. So will the others that just need to be put to paper. I've been told that patience is a good thing to learn....
I KNOW that I am a writer. My name might not be King, but I still have one very gigantic dream. And one very gigantic God who is helping me get it accomplished.
"'...not by might, not by power, but by my Spirit,' says the Lord Almighty." - Zechariah 4:6
SOLI DEO GLORIA.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
(Emily Michael - http://coloring-theworld.blogspot.com) did a post on our friendship; how we found each other as little kids, lost each other, found each other again, and became the best friend we are today. I figured another such post might be redundant, so instead I am doing a post about our friendship in pictures. We pretty much rival the friendship of David and Jonathan. Em, you are THE BEST!
I could put about 12 trillion more pictures in addition to these 10 (just by the way, these ones are the mostly normal pictures. I'll have to make another post sometime of the REALLY bizarre ones...). The last few years of our lives have been awesome, highly eventful, and very well documented. But you get the point. We are so alike, and yet quite unalike. We are inseparable.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"
Sound familiar? Those would be the last two stanzas of Edgar Allan Poe's 'The Raven.' I thought putting in eighteen stanzas would be just a little bit of an overkill for a post about things to quoted. "That's not a quote" you might say, "That's a monster of a poem!"
You may think that, but I happen to be able to quote it.
Back in 7th or 8th grade I think that I thought being able to quote The Raven would be something to impress people with, and I liked a good challenge...so I memorized it. The whole thing. All 18 stanzas, 1,125 words, covering almost 4 pages in the poetry book in which it was found.
I am not positive as to what possessed me to wake up one day and suddenly undertake this (before then the longest thing I had memorized was 13 verses of the Bible) and I am also unsure of how I did it, but it undoubtedly helped with my memorizing skills, for a while later when I had to memorize a soliloquy that spanned a page for a Shakespearean play it was a breeze! (And while I remember the soliloquy that was my Shakespearean debut, unfortunately, I cannot recite The Raven anymore on demand; now my mind can typically recall stanzas 1-2, 6, bits of 15-17, and 18- but "merely this and nothing more.")
I could have posted any number of Poe's works for today's quote, for I love all things Poe. (No. It's not just the one raven-containing poem, but good guess.) His works are categorized in the genres of Horror or Gothic -which are not genres I am usually drawn to- but they differ from the rest; Poe's horrors focus on the human psyche, rather than the usual external things-shadows, bloodied knives in the hands of crazed killers, and bumping night noises. Reading his stories is thrilling, but your perspective changes when you look at the true pain coming from the man that wrote them. Google him. Poe wrote of torment, because Poe himself knew a life of torment. His entire life, as well as his career, was a struggle. His writing genius wasn't even fully acknowledged until after his sudden and slightly mysterious death.
I decided to do a Poe quote as it has been a Poe-filled day for me. This morning I read a short story of his (The Tell-Tale Heart- my personal favorite) for school. Tonight, I am going to see a presentation on him- complete with a fully costumed, professional Poe impressionist! (This October is celebrating Poe's 200th birthday, so the performance is some sort of tribute.)
This will be interesting. Very, very interesting. Happy Birthday, Edgar!
If photographs are captured I will be sure to post them up.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
While creativity runs in my blood, it also runs in my making. I am the daughter of a very creative God, and I guess I have been gifted with a similar ability. I can't make a platypus, an aurora borealis, an okapi, a waterfall or a sea cucumber (nor have I tried to make these.)...but I can make some other pretty sweet things!
In the span of my life I have attempted a good many creative mediums; sewing, knitting, painting, scrapbooking, stamping, jewelry making, drawing, crocheting....pretty much everything....
One of my absolute favorite things to make are purses with unusual appliques on them. I don't use a pattern ( another thing that runs in my Kiss blood is rebellion against all forms of patterns) so each bag comes out unique to itself. I started making them because I liked having a purse that no one else had. I began selling my one-of-a-kinds when people were becoming envious; I used the money I made off purses last year to help get me to Costa Rica on a summer missions trip. This year I am expanding. I'm opening up shop....sort of. I started an Etsy shop (see side bar link) a couple of days ago that I hope will help to bring in some extra moola (some of it will be going towards a return trip to Costa Rica in July). In addition to bags I plan to put up knitted things (hats, hand warmers, etc) some jewelry items, and whatever else I can think up.
A bookbag for one of my little sisters.
And this one is the fabulous bag that could be yours, as it is listed on my Etsy right at this very moment. Waiting. For you.
All that being said, GO CHECK OUT MY ETSY!
Monday, October 19, 2009
- "Are the things you're living for worth Christ dying for?"
Leonard Ravenhill is a favorite of mine, not only because his last name is Ravenhill (I have this odd obsession with ravens....) but also because he was an efficacious evangelist and author, who avidly spoke on the topics of prayer and revival. He influenced many, including Ravi Zacharias and A.W. Tozer. He died in 1994 and that above quote became his epitaph.
Here's some more Ravenhill;
- "The opportunity of a lifetime must be seized within the lifetime of the opportunity."
- "If weak in prayer, we are weak everywhere."
- "If Jesus had preached the same message that ministers preach today, He would never have been crucified."
- "My main ambition in life is to be on the devil's most wanted list."
This man passionate man left his mark. His words have a lot of power, but nothing can speak as clearly as an ardent life well lived to the glory of God.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
These are a few of my favorite things;
(this is one of my several bookshelves.)
CONVERSE ALL STAR'S
(the ones in the middle are my first pair ever)
(when I said "incessant keeper of journals," I wasn't kidding. This is the last 9 years of my life in 35 volumes. That's 3,500 pages.)
(clearly I have an addiction....)
(I've been playing since I was a little kid, and I am now very active on my church's worship team)
(this coffee maker is pretty awesome, but what I would really like is a personal, in-home starbucks barista to make me coffee.)
(and I'm not talking just the movies. I mean ALL things pirate.)
(a couple of friends, my sister, and I after a walk in a downpour)
(these are my shoes post-walking on a tarped splatter painting area)
(Hot or cold. If it came with caffiene it would be the best thing in the world.)
(this is a roof of a chapel that I helped to re-do on a missions trip to West Virginia)
LIVING "TO THE HILT"
(photo taken moments before I bungee jumped of a 267 foot bridge in Costa Rica)
There are many other things that I love; my life is just too exciting to contain in one blog post. But this gives you a general idea of me. It's nice to meet you too!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Unless those guns involve blogging, apparently?
My mom has a blog. My best friend just started a blog. I do fair deal of reading other people's blogs.
But I was a proud mocker and at any suggestion of having my own blog I would laugh, eyes flashing crazily, and shout "NEVER!"
I feel like there has been some great Damascus road conversion that has taken place in my life.
You see, the more I thought about it, the more a blog made sense. I love writing; I have enough passion to write for hours upon hours. I am an incessant keeper of journals. I have a lot of opinions. I make some really fantastic things. I do quite a bit of exciting stuff. I take lots of pictures. And I would like to think I am an overall interesting person....
Why not blog?
Exactly. So, here I am.
Welcome to my world.