wild child running bare foot

i lived a childhood among the treetops and running barefoot with wolf packs of my own creation.

tucked in bed late at night, i watched the window and the shadows on the other side of the shutters and thought that, maybe, if i closed my eyes tight enough and wished hard enough...maybe peter pan would come.

i pet pencil to paper, wrote stories of fox of frogs and hedgehogs. they were carefree and wild; just as i wanted to be.

there were no problems back then. sweet childhood hid the ugliness of a world that was poised to hurt and damage tender souls as they pushed from their beds like bits of greenery from the earth.

 i did not wonder if i would end up alone; i had my storybooks, i had my stuffed animals that i pretended were orphans under my care, i had my bike which was, in my mind, a horse and i had myself and my family.
what else was there to want?

i did not play as a bride at a wedding. i played like a pioneer woman, alone in the prairie as she defended her homestead from wolves, indians and men (all of which were portrayed by my brothers).

i never could run very fast or very far but when your barefeet hit the warm summer ground, you can imagine that you run as a deer beside a rushing river.  feet turn to hooves, you form ears that dart at the slightest sound. you forget that you are a girl and not a wild animal.

i liked huckleberry finn better than i liked tom sawyer.  huck was wild and had adventures bigger and better than tom did, in my mind.  black beauty was the name of every single one of my fictional steeds and i yearned to bury my nose in the shimmering black coat of the horse that belonged in my heart as he did on pages as ink.

i was sensible. but deep in my soul, i knew that animals could talk. there was a secret language that only the very talent could hear. 

 childhood faded away and turned into a delicate in-between.  limbs grew gangly, wild turned to tears and confusion.  i stopped running barefoot. i stopped believing in peter pan. i stopped wishing for things i knew i could not have.

things not of this world were put in a box along with the toys and burnt-hemmed skirts i had outgrown.

i had my first crush; a boy whose younger sister was a friend. my reaction to these new feelings was to ignore him and pretend he did not exist; i panicked.
he is married now.
now i begin to wonder if i will be alone.
the prospect is not as cheery as it once seemed.
 
every child has a wild thing inside of it.
im glad that mine had a good run between wild blueberry bushes, pine straw forest floors and imaginary worlds where talking animals and peter pan were more than stories.

paper crowns blog tour + surprise

"Ginger has lived in seclusion, with only her Aunt Malgarel and her blue cat, Halcyon, to keep her company. Her sheltered, idyllic life is turned upside-down when her home is attacked by messengers from the world of fae. Accompanied by Halcyon (who may or may not be more than just a cat), an irascible wysling named Azrael, and a loyal fire elemental named Salazar, Ginger ventures into the world of fae to bring a ruthless Queen to justice."

Mirriam's writing had always fascinated me.  From the moment I met her and began to delve into her written worlds, I was drawn in by the way she poured words into the soup pot and came out with something gourmet.
Paper Crowns is something unique, however.
While most of Mirriam's writing is intense, as sharp as the wit of Oscar Wilde and as bright as a firecracker, Paper Crowns has an aura of magic and drowsy dreaming that fit it more into a chimera world of Howl's Moving Castle and Jim Henson's Labyrinth with maybe a tiny touch of Alice in Wonderland. maybe.
besides, there is a talking blue cat. trust me, you want this.
With the assortment of characters, the whimsy storytelling and the drifting in and out of the fae world and back into ours, the 191 pages of Paper Crowns is a fast read that will make you be glad it happened but sad its over.

(not to go into the spoilers zone but: there is a sequel. I've read it. I know this isn't a common thing to say when talking about a sequel...but I actually think the Paper Crowns world gets better in the sequel. I know, right? freaky)

Today, for your reading pleasure, I have two very special surprises. Oh I know, don't thank me yet.

First up, the marvelous author is here, herself, to answer a few questions about Paper Crowns and its construction.

blog // goodreads // publisher's page // barnes and noble // amazon // email

Unlikely Things: "What three songs were at the top of your playlist while writing Paper Crowns?"

MN.: "Until The Darkness Comes by Colbie Callait, Magnetic by Jessie J. and Lost Boys by Novelette"

Unlikely Things: "Can you remember what the first 'ah ha!' spark of inspiration was?"

MN.: "When I realized I was well and truly irked by Julie Kagawa's 'Iron Fey' series..."

Unlikely Things: "Can you describe Paper Crowns in five words?"

MN.: "Even the muffins are dangerous"

Unlikely Things: "You have a very interesting set of characters within Paper Crowns. Was there any interesting founding-inspiration for any of them?"

MN.: "Not necessarily, no. I'd wanted to write a shape shifting cat for a very long time, but I can't recall exactly where that desire came from." 

Unlikely Things Note: its a shape shifting cat. how much more does that need? I mean you could literally throw the concept of a shape shifting cat around for the sheer joy it brings...

Unlikely Things: "What do you hope readers take away from reading this book?"

MN.: "This is one of my rare novels where I'm not necessarily writing so readers 'take away' anything but some warm, fuzzy feelings and - hopefully - new characters to love."

Unlikely Things: "Is it possible for you to choose one scene that was your favorite? Can you describe it to our readers?"

MN.: "I don't necessarily have a favorite, but to pick one from the pile, I really enjoy the scene with the Mattigan. Who and what the Mattigan is, I can't exactly say. ;)"

I had to fight some bees to get the flowers for this picture. It was not enjoyable.

Unlikely Things: "What about a favorite quote?"

MN.: "Ohh, I can't say a favorite quote. I try to write everything with a quoteable air, if that makes sense. I write things I would want to read, I want to make it all enjoyable."

Unlikely Things Note: pretty much everything that spills from Hal and Azrael's mouths is my favorite quote. Which...seeing how they are mouthy and they happen to poke alongside Ginger throughout the majority of the book...I have way too many favorites. yikes.

Unlikely Things: "This is your second published book, but your first book that has not been independently published. Why did you decide to go the traditional publishing route with Paper Crowns?"

MN.: "Well, technically Indie is a step between self-publishing and traditional. I'm still working towards having a novel published traditionally, and this is the next step towards that goal."

Unlikely Things: "Are you sworn to secrecy, or can you tell us a bit about what project(s) you are working on now?"

MN.: "I'm currently 70,000 words into a futuristic, Japanese, Sci-Fi retelling of Robin Hood; and aside from this Paper Crowns tour, it has most of my focus right now. It has an expansive cast and I would kill to see it turned into an anime. (I didn't say what I would kil, but I would kill.)

Unlikely Things Note: whatever is lined up for the noose/knife/bullet had better not be another character. I can't emotionally take that. 

Unlikely Things: "What is your favorite aspect of the Paper Crowns world?" 

MN.: "I love the back-and-forth between the fae world and ours. Playing mix-and-match is my favorite aspect." 

Unlikely Things: "Tell us about that cover art! Man, I know they say that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but people do. Paper Crowns has some lovely, stunning art, so boast a bit! Tell us how it came to be."

MN.: "MY GIRLBRO EXTRAORDINAIRE LAUREN GIFTED IT TO ME.
She'd wanted to do the cover for Monster originally, but we didn't know each other well and she didn't say anything about it. So with Paper Crowns, she jumped in, told me she had my back, and gave me a cover more gorgeous than I ever dreamed of"

 ----------------

Mirriam Neal is absolutely beautiful and is sickenly talented. But why take my word for it?

Thats right, its a giveaway! The rules are simple: follow the rules in the rafflecopter, and on Wednesday, June 1, the winner will be contacted to receive their address in order to have the paperback copy mailed to them.  It's going to be worthwhile, trust me.

Want to read more about Paper Crowns and visit more blogs hosting author/book spotlights, reviews and more? Here is a list of blogs and posts to check out!

Adventures of an Annapuppy

 

Pickles's Pens and Trinkets 

Want to enter to win a signed copy of Paper Hearts? do so here. 

An entire, complete list of all the locations and dates that the Paper Crowns tour will be headed is available here. Keep an eye out for more goodies and fun!

G

M

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she said stop

"Stop touching me."

 I look up from where I was scrolling through my Facebook feed on my phone. I had made a quick stop to the local Winn-Dixie to pick up basics, items that I no longer remember even though the incident remains clear. Expecting to see a grown man bothering the woman in front of me, I was actually rather surprised when it was revealed that it wasn't a husband and wife, stranger and stranger or girlfriend and boyfriend. It was a mother and son.
 He couldn't have been more than six years old and his mother looked completely exasperated as she tried to load her groceries onto the conveyor belt.  It was a simply task, but he made it difficult the way he was clinging to her, his arms wrapped around her waist and his face buried in her stomach.
At first thought, I felt for the boy. Did he feel so lacking in affection that he needed to respond like this?
While I'm not sure how his home life is, his behavior was still uncalled for.
"But I love you!" he cries, only tightening his thin arms.
She has her groceries on the belt now, all of them except a package of chocolate milk that he has already drank half of.
"Let me go, please. I need to get your milk."
"I love you mom!"
"I know, let go of me."
"MOM I LOVE YOU."
It continued, this struggle, for a few more minutes before she finally pried him off of her, snatched the milk from the cart, placed it on the belt...all before he again ensnared her in his arms.
It felt wrong to me, to watch this son wrastle his mother until she was struggling to remove the money from her purse, struggling to return her bagged groceries into the cart and continue on outside, only settling back into the cart once she began to push it away from the register.
I paid for my things and headed out the door myself, the nudging feeling in the back of my mind as I processed the event that had unfolded before me.

I'm not a mother. 

Clarifying that right now.  I understand how being a mother may affect someone to think that, even though their child is being a brat and a bother, they see nothing past a wee bit of childish folly.

"He'll outgrow it," "It's just a phase" "Hes just a kid/toddler/baby."

I love children, I really do.  I loved being a nanny and I hope to eventually return to a child-based ministry.  I get along with kids.
But the truth of the matter is very simple.

"Train up a child in the way he should go,

and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

- Proverbs 22:6

She told him to let go of her. He did not. Despite the fact that it was clear disobedience of authority, the largest thing that bothered me is the echo it casts onto rape culture. There is a problem among  male society that the female word and the female body is not respected.  Girls are viewed as property of their boyfriends.  A women can not feel safe at night because she could easily be victimized.  I work as a journalist, and some of my events take place at night and when they do, I always park in the light and near an entrance so I'm not walking in a shadowing parking lot alone for any extended period of time.   I've had events in the quarters side of town where I felt plain out unsafe leaving my car.
Saying "No" or "I don't want to" or "Please don't touch me" is as good as saying nothing to some men.  I could go on and on about how wrong it is.
But this isn't a post for me to rant about how unsafe I feel.

She told him to let go of her. He did not.
Yes, he is six years old. Kids are clingy and selfish and don't like to listen.
There was, to my knowledge, no repercussion of his actions.
She told him to stop touching her. He did not.

Fast forward to where he is eighteen...twenty...maybe older.
It's not his mother now, but a girl, a woman.  She asks him to stop. She asks him to let go of her.

He does not. 

Its far fetched, I know. This little boy may very well grow up to be someone of respect.   It's not really about him, though. He just happened to strike the realization for me.
We teach teens safe sex. We teach them how to be careful. We teach young men how to tie their necktie, how to speak with authority for when they are at work.  We teach them to be leaders, shakers and movers of society (girls too!).

Do we teach them to open doors for girls? To understand that a girl, no matter how tough, is breakable in your fists? "You can crush a girl like a flower, never underestimate her, but never bring your hand against her when she asks you not to."  Who is telling them this?
Girls can do anything boys can do, yes.  This is being taught. Girls are not something to be cherished anymore.
Her value is no longer above rubies because...shes just like you, boys.

Girls need to know their own value, their own worth, that they are powerful ladies who can run in high heels or sneakers, whichever they prefer, and that lab coats fit just as well as the mink coat they want. 

Boys need to know that girls are their equal, but not just like them.

Teach little boys young that their hands are to stay at their sides and the only reason to touch a girl is is with love and respect. (love is not the only reason to touch a girl. Just because you adore her and want to keep her in your grasp does not exactly mean she feels the same). When she says stop, stop.  When she says don't, don't.  Hold the door open for her, kindergarteners can grasp the concept of pulling a chair out for the little girls they know.
Step up teachers, fathers and mothers.

What little men are allowed to do, they will continue to do until they are no longer little.

If we start teaching them  how to respect women when they are grown men and teenagers, we have waited too long and it is that much harder to change the society that makes a girl feel weaker when in a room full of men.

face the sky

Turn your face towards the sun
Let the shadows fall behind you
Tell a pray, just carry on
And the shadows will never find you

 Lost in the rock and roll
Got lost in a promise of a love I never know
Shadows chase me far from home
I remember when my heart was filled with gold

 Lost my faith and trust
You and I know gold don't turn to rust
I still swear that we can reign
Like the kings and queens of better yesterday

 Don't you know
I've been burned

 You see me lose control
It's not worth

 My soul

 Where you gonna go, where you gonna run to
When you get to the edge of the night
It's time you face the sky

- Rihanna (Towards the Sun)

the pandora box of ugly thoughts

I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and you laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.
- Clarissa Pinkola Estes

facebook has that nifty memory-sharing widget (forgive me, i forget its name) and on february 11, i looked through all the memories that i had posted on that day, or that friends had posted with me in mind.

february 11 is my birthday.

image is mine. please ask permission if you intend on using it.

you know, ive never felt myself aging.  ive never felt the slow growth that getting older provides. ive never felt older. ive never felt like im becoming more than i was before.

but as i scrolled through the memories, the birthday wishes and photos of the years past...

i could see it. 

on my 16th year, i thought i was so grown up.  i had everything that i needed to make my own way in this world. sure, i was a self-conscience baby who wasn't so certain about how to link my own fears and insecurities to the fact that i felt like i should've been complete by now.  i still had acne, wasn't that supposed to clear up by the time i was an 'adult'?

on my 17th year, i realized how young i was.  16 is a step forward and 18 is a step forward...but 17 is just...there.  and thats how i felt. just there. i suffered feelings of self-worth. i let myself bully myself.  i let myself hold myself back.  'i can't wear that, it makes my arms fat'.  'i cant wear my hair up, it doesn't hide my acne'.  oh beautiful girl.  why do you punish yourself for something you can't control?

this is also mine.

on my 18th year, i lifted my head up and stepped over the physical insecurities. 'you don't get to get me', i said.  but lo, i discovered a new insecurity.  i started nannying, and as good as it was for me, the fear of failure wrecked me.  i kicked myself for every wrong step i made and bullied myself even harder as name calling slipped into my head. 'you are so lame' i said to myself as i served leftovers to the children when i had wanted to make home cooked soup, but between errands, school, ballet classes, karate lessons, playing at the park, homework, or whatever it was that day that stole my attentions...i never had the time.  i feared judgement that i wasn't good enough, and in a way, it was worse then the crippling physical insecurities...because there was no outward sign that i was suffering from it.

on my 19th year, i learned to bottle the insecurities that told me i wasn't good enough, that i was a failure.  i learned to wait to open them until i couldn't contain them anymore. i made a pandora box in my soul, a nasty thing of self-hate that i refused to touch until i couldn't hold back anymore.  it kept me happy, it kept me smiling...until it was opened. i allowed myself to have a nasty little bit of my soul so that the rest of me could pretend to be alright.

on my 20th year, i hope to cleanse out that box.  i hope to deal with every mean thought towards myself, each cruel thing with a swift spray of soul-cleanser.  i hope that in my 20th year, i learn to treat myself as i would treat others.  to remember that its ok to make mistakes as long as you learn from them, it is alright to not finish everything on your list as long as you aren't giving up and to open myself to the sun without hesitations or fear of failure. 

i will treat myself kindly. flowers don't bloom without sunshine.

gone to weed

 

My blog has gone to weed lately, hasn't it?  Don't worry, I'm making plans to come alive again (ooooh, my blogiversary is just around the corner!), and with it, may come changes.  Including, but maybe not including, a new blog name which will mean a new design.  As of lately, I'm changing. 

Who am I kidding, I'm always changing. 

I believe there is a disney Pocahontas quote that says something about people not being steady at all? Thats me. 

I'm an ever changing river, rushing weaving and going all sorts of different ways.  I'm a gypsy soul that is learning how to be who it needs to be. And, in the meantime, I'm learning a lot about myself. 

In truth, thats just a really meodramatic way to put a slow change in interest.  But, I don't take interests lightly. Interests are my life, they are who I am. 

I'm still the girl who loves britian like she loves air (she sometimes forgets how much she needs it to live), and is still trying to be a brit and drinks tea daily and still can't stand the taste of that sweet southern stuff (thats a lie. I can. but if you set a sugar-and-cream Earl Grey and iced glass of Sweet Tea before me, guess which one I would pick).   But, I'm also more people. 

I'm a kaleidoscope, honestly.

So, until a (preferably not so long) next time. 

Kaleidoscope girl.

[ I think Mo is a nice name ]

 so yesterday morning my dad informed me that there was a lady on one of his facebook pages (those trade-sell-buy pages that are becoming oh so popular) that was selling a nikon camera for $300.  She had bought it a year ago, and only used it four or five times and just found it too high tech for her and wanted to sell it so she could buy a simpler point and shoot.
Naturally I was interested.
I've been thinking about needing to upgrade my camera game, since I was slightly out growing my Canon G10, but if you've ever priced those nice lovelies, you might have noticed that they aren't exactly cheap, and most certainly not one of those things you just go out and buy on a whim.
Daddy told her we were interested, and then I had to scramble up $300.
I had $200 in my savings bank account, and after unearthing some past dues that my brothers still owed me, I reached the amount needed, and headed to the meeting place.
Naturally, buying a second hand camera, especially from a trade-buy-sell page, can be a bit risky.  I fully expected the camera to have a ding or two, maybe a scratched lens or screen, and was getting myself ready to barter down (I stink at bartering down fyi).
The moment I saw this baby, however, I knew there would be very little bartering down to be done.
She, the owner, still had things wrapped in plastic, there wasn't even a smudge on the screen, and every cord was still wrapped with its little ties.
Apparently someone had bought it for her when her daughter started playing Basketball so that she could take pictures, but she could never figure out how to use it.
we actually got a kick out of how I had to show her where the flash was, because even after a year, she had no clue.
I took a few experimental pictures, brought my computer along so I could see how it downloads, and each second I was falling more and more in love.

I had to have this camera. 

I didn't even bother bartering down, my honesty could not allow me to pay less than what she was asking for a camera that was almost clearly worth more.
And so I bought it, paid $300 for my new Nikon D3000 and my savings for a new computer is once again depleted.
We had to make a stop at walmart afterwards, and all through the store I was mentally, and at times, vocally, debating what to name my new baby.
I name everything, I have a lamp named Atticus, my G10 is Camryn, my car (that I sold) was Lemonade, and my current computer is Greg (because everything is not his division).  So naturally this Nikon addition to the family had to be named.
My mum suggested Nickie, but I protested that I was sure he was a boy camera.
So Nicholas (which I almost wanted, for reasons shut up mirriam this was a good movie), Nikoli, Nick, all were suggested, but each name didn't fit him.
And fitting is a very important thing when it comes to names.
while still thinking on that whole name thing, we left walmart, and I got to experience something new.
The blood bus!
Yours truly has donated roughly one pint of blood to the vampires on wheels.
That was something interesting indeed.  Since I'm "so tiny" (the nurse's words), taking one pint so quickly ended up leaving me light headed and nauseous after a minute or two (or it felt like a minute or two. mayhaps it was longer), and they had to prop my feet up so blood would flow easier to my heart and give me an ice pack since I was getting really hot (which is better than getting cold, I suppose, as far as blood loss goes).  And then, walking the short distance to the car in the parking lot afterwards made my vision black out, and I had to lay down with my feet propped up in the back seat.
and i am most certainly donating blood next time the blood bus comes around.
playing around with my still unnamed camera continued after I got home, and was one of the reasons dinner was late.  What time is there for cooking when you have a camera to play with?
I continued thinking over names, running everything from boys names to girls names over.
and then it happened.
the fitting name arrived.
Mo.
(which is shortened for Moriarty so oh joy)
Mo.
Mo was perfect.

So Mo he is.

  

This morning, I woke up (which takes some time with me. there is a huge difference between being awake and being awake. just to clarify), slipped on a pair of my mom's shoes, and headed out to our woods to take pictures. 

I need to do that more often. 

The woods were alive with birds, and the coloring and air was so beautiful. It was a bit chilly, so my hands got a bit cold from holding Mo, as I haven't yet put the strap on him (need to do that). 

And it was lovely. 

So yes, I have moved up on the photographer game board as I now own a Nikon and a Canon which is the double chip of also owning two cameras.  (Random thing: Mo has Manuel focus. you don't know how happy that makes me unless you are also a photographer in which case I hope you do because MF is quite possibly one of the greatest gifts to ever be given) 

On account of other news, I have a job! Starting January 2nd, I will be a nanny. 

*confetti pops* 

It's a really really good position, actually. We know the family, and I won't be working every single day. Just when E and M's parents are working. So, in truth, I suppose it's more like a pumped up baby sitting job more than actual nanny. 

It will involve me having to drive for an hour to their home twice a week, and staying away from my home more days than I will actually be home (which is a bit terrifying). But, I'm excited. It's not full term, since I'm just the temp nanny, and she will probably have a full time nanny by March. 

So, if you don't hear much from me in the next three months, that may be the reason why. 

or, I could have just gotten lazy and that will probably actually be it. laziness. 

that fun thing I said I have in the works? it's still going to happen. no fears.  I actually want to start doing quite a lot of fun things in the near future. but we'll see. 

I could use something poetic here, but its basically just a bunch of photography to hopefully convey what I've been doing lately

welcome to december in fl folks

ha. HA. finally got a few pictures of these two, who always enjoy being elusive when it comes to getting pictures of them.

taken in the governor's office indeed

dont ask

look! you get a picture of me!

so, between the mixes of these pictures, there is me reading William Shakespeare's Star Wars (given to me by this person. she's practically perfect in every which way), some random images I took at a Christmas Party my Dad's boss hosted (why yes, I was taking pictures instead of mingling and talking) and my family being tourists in our own state.

in case you were wondering, I did not suceed in winning NaNo. but, I'm not bummed about that.
I've been having far too much fun writing in my other novels (the ones I missed), particularly The 100 Year Queen, to be bummed about it.

Guys, this novel may be it.

I'm on chapter twelve, and 30K in. I write big chapters.
These cast of characters are some of my absolute favorites, and I really love pretty much everything about T100YQ. 
Particularly my Antagonist.
I think you are probably not supposed to love your bad guy figure, but its hard for me to not love Taj Roku, with his damaged soul, love for reptiles, and blue hair.
(i did just say blue hair. blue hair on a baddie. go bby)
Sometimes I think I might be losing touch with Taj's villainous side (probably the fault of the same beautiful person who gave my the Shakespeare star wars book who has become insisted an changing the 'bad and forever bad' view of him because she loves him more than the protagonist...) but then I think, "Really, Taj is only twenty-four. He hasn't had a whole life time to perfect being evil. And he doesn't think he is either. He thinks he is merely carrying on a political change while also seeking revenge for his brother's killer. He is still young, still mostly undefined. He is a villain that does not know a that he is the  antagonist of this story, and in truth, he is a villain that you could easily see yourself siding with because he is only so faintly bad"

and I guess I'm probably doing something right in the end after all. 

Taj won't be the next Voldemort, Darth Sidius, Galbatorix, or Morgoth. 

He is far too lukewarm and like able and human for that. 

Taj falls in love, Taj fails in love, Taj is a little boy who sasses his elders, and a young man with too much depending on his inexperienced shoulders. 

That is my Taj.

hold on while I grab some tissues.

back.

But I also love my hero (who behaves more like an anti-hero. I don't think I actually write real heroes. just anti-heroes), and my royal heroine. It's a lovely novel, I think, and I enjoy it immensely.

I've also been remembering to make sure I show my characters eating as well, and all writer's know the difficultly of being sure your characters aren't just...not eating and still being healthy, thriving people.

so, yes.
that is all.

(btw keep an eye out. I have something fun in the works)