Text from Halloween - Night Clouds

1. Listen.  Silence settles in the cloud-cloak
over the graying straight of sylvan grounds.
Treading softly there, a stranger who’s set
to stalk the leaf-rugs of the sleeping trees
with lit torch, hardened staff, and gleaming knife,
lifts her eyes up to the taupe canopy.
The branches’ scraping signifies winter;
an icy gale pierces her slender back.

At the hollow tree, whose trunk is heightened
10. by time and tortured by lordly-lightning,
the girl stops and waits, black eyes stabbing night
in hopes of sighting the boy, her release.
Silent as currents under a glass-strait,
the boy appears, his slate-hued cloak snapping
with vigor of life in wind behind him.

He greets her with an eager smile of heat,
a laugh so gentle, it annihilates
the darkness, shadows, and bitter silence.
The two together terminate rawness
20. with fire, light, and flavorful discourse.
Around the blazes, they let down their hoods,
drape their cloaks across each other’s shoulders,
and stare at the flickering, friendly flames.

The spicy snake-sparks that slither up, up
try their hardest to reach the pearly moon,
but individually, they each fail.
She lifts her gaze and feels rain fall down, down.
“What hopelessness exists in each,” she says,
“Fire would return to golden heaven
30. while water would destroy vice-ridden earth.”
“Both result in perfection,” he counters,
“yet they do so through different methods.”

The boy sits beside her, pale skin gleaming
with sweat from the flames, veined hands glowing soft,
ebony eyes stoked with bold-hearted hate,
an expression that she put into him.
His broad black back rises and fades away
but returns with logs secure in each fist.
Methodically, he inclines forward
50. over the fire, hides his face in cloth,
and steps in the coals, tossing a log in
and gazing at the shower of hot sparks
as they rise in front of his sharp, clenched jaw.
Without even glancing at her small frame,
he returns twice to add more dry-fodder,
then after his third drop, he fades away
to black and penetrating loneliness.
He ducks low and sprints into the forest.
leaving the female alone to nighttime.

Write on!
Clove
P.S. This is a dramatized, little piece about what I did last Halloween at a Reformation Celebration.  If you notice, it's in the style of Beowulf, complete with kennings and alliteration.  ^_^

CHAPTER 4 - Author's Notes

Hey one, hey all, welcome back!  :)

Of course, you all have already met my energetic male protagonist Millis here, so I won't say much more on him.  I'm hoping that his personality came out a little more as you read the chapter, but, like many others, he'll be back again and again, so, if you don't understand him now, just wait.  His back-story shall be explained soon enough...  *evil laugh*

Hyn, on the other hand, I talked about very little in my last section of author's notes, so I suppose it's time I discussed him here.

Originally, I got inspiration for Hyn off of Nathaniel T., a friend of a friend's older brother.  x)  Our whole meeting process was as strange as it probably sounds, but he left quite the impression on me in that he was able to smoothly get anyone and everyone to laugh.  I mean, honestly, we hadn't even gotten past introductions when I was clutching my sides, no joke.

He's in the back to the right with that massive smile.

My reaction to such an alive character?

As I was building Hyn, I admit that I did indeed get inspiration off of Disney...  *gasps*  After all, Hyn's the stereotypical cocky hero, and, in a small way, he reminded me a good bit of Flynn Rider from Tangled.

In the end, however, I still haven't found the right cast for Hyn.  The pictures that I find are always slightly off somehow - brown eyes, the wrong build, or brown hair.

...so.

If you could take all of the correct elements:

Blue eyes...

...a proper build... 

...and blond hair...

...and mash them all together, you'd get Hyn.

Moving right along, I mention briefly a girl named Rea, who is Hyn and Millis' intelligence agent.  She's pretty young - about fourteen - and, for right now, she's not that important.  Later on, though...

*even more evil laugh*

Last but not least, you have Millis and Hyn's mysterious employer, who...well...I can't tell you who HE is, now can I?
*most evil laugh*

I hope you guys liked the chapter!  Feedback and edits are always appreciated.  Also, if missed a chapter or two or three, feel free to leave a comment telling me so, and I'll find a way to get you all filled in.

Write on!
Clove

CHAPTER 4

Ladies and gentlemen:
Flu season.

I was in a 104˚F fever on Saturday, I was retching on Sunday, I was blowing my nose like a trumpeter on Monday, and I've been coughing like a horse ever since.  Why I didn't get more writing done during that period of time, well, beats me.  :)

This is very overdue, so let's not waste time with introductions, eh?

~ ~ ~ 

Hired
December 10, 3013
9:56 P.M.



   Head down, hood up, Millis paced through the airport halls.
   He looked deceptively small with his physique hidden in the folds of his loose clothes.  Small, but indistinguishable among the dark-haired, bronze-skinned people of Southern Excellia.
   And for now, that was desirable.
   Twenty meters behind him was Hyn, shuffling along in the cool manner of any high-class business man who knew how to handle himself professionally.
   Twenty meters behind Hyn was Rea, appearing too young to be worth trouble.
   Stereotypical had been and would be the name of their mission’s cloak until the three companions were back in ELI, safe and hidden in their realm of equals.  But despite every effort made to keep quiet and inconspicuous, Millis still felt glances cast at his back, questioning his status and affairs.
   Disguises.
   Millis muttered a curse under his breath.
   The equivalent of failures.
   Evidently, the fools behind the masking orchestration had given no forethought to Rea’s attraction to the real world.  When the sixteen year old girl had opened her suitcase to find she had received a pair of denim shorts, an explosively colored tank-top, and a collection of gaudy accessories, she had changed--immediately--and pranced around the hotel living room, chatting nonsensically in a British accent.  Hyn eventually lost it and had knocked her to the ground, smudging black carpet filth on her new clothes.
   Millis smirked unconsciously under his hood.
   Central ELI had also seemingly forgotten that Hyn never enjoyed any part of a mission aside from the raw basics and focus of action.  It was in his blood as a Rager.  He was naturally agitated, bred for the high-concentration work of a mercenary, not for the clownish shenanigans of a spy.
   And for that matter, so was Millis.
   It was due to the dual nature of ELI that the getups had been made mandatory.  While supposedly government funded and utilized, other antigovernment bodies frequently hired ELI’s trained assassins for their own uses, Millis and Hyn being no exception.  The chances of being spotted by an Excellian security guard and identified as a local criminal were more likely than it would appear.  One too many discovered assassins had given ELI a bad reputation, almost to the point of being shut down by the government.
   They were taking no chances now.
   No chances included hiding their specialized human weapons in the clothes of businessmen, commoners, and tourists.  No chances included making their specialized human weapons into stereotypical brats.
    Millis reached Terminal D1 and unslung his backpack in the departure lounge, taking a swift seat on a peeling leather chair.  Forty-five seconds until he would be joined by Hyn.  Ninety seconds till Rea.  Millis dug into his pocket and pulled out a touch phone, glancing at the time.  Four minutes until boarding began.
   Hyn had sent him a text: The next idiot who tries to pickpocket me will get it.
   Millis raised his eyebrows and texted back, In an airport?  Good luck.
   Tell Damion he can have my Anschutz 22 if I don’t make it.
   A faint grin touched Millis’ lips.  Will do.
   Another text popped up on his phone's screen a long moment later.  Shades, button-down polo, slacks, and dress shoes.  All black colors.  With backpack.  Watch for him.  He's been following me since the parking lot, and he's suddenly pulled ahead.  I told Rea to stay fifteen meters off.
   Millis instinctively and casually raised his head and cast a quick glance across the hall, his Hunter mind mechanically telling his conscious brain that there were fourteen people in the corridor, none of them Hyn’s stalker.  A Southern Excellian woman giggled at a swarthy, attractive friend, and Millis watched them sashay off before turning back to his phone.
   Hyn had sent another message.  He stopped.  I think he wants us both.
   More than likely.  Get over here.  Tell Rea to stay put, even if things get violent.
   Roger that.
   Hyn came into view a few moments later.  His tie was loose around the collar, giving him a dressy, casual look, but at the rate he was walking, the natural, laid-back atmosphere delivered by his looks was replaced with determined single-mindedness so typical of Hyn.  When he took another pair of steps, Millis saw why.
   The man was right behind him.
   And it wasn't hard to tell that he was moving with a purpose.
   Despite the human pressure tracing his footsteps, Hyn took a seat in a relaxed manner, a seat directly behind Millis, and unfolded a newspaper.
   The stranger sat down on Millis' right and turned straight to him.  Millis could see out of the corner of his eye that the man had shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a dark purple ribbon.  A large nose fit his strong jaw.  White teeth, bright eyes.  Whoever this man was, he was no slob.  Even the clothes he wore couldn’t conceal his good health.
   For some reason, Millis thought he looked vaguely familiar...but he couldn’t place the man.
   "Millis Rider, Hyn Reuler, I need an assassin."
   Indifferently, Millis continued to type on his phone, filling in the necessary blanks of a report on Hassan's death so he could close the job and receive the money sum as soon as he reached Haven 1.  Hyn flipped a crinkly page and replied apathetically, "So do the rest."
   The man sighed.
   Millis surmised it was from relief.  Based off of his amateur persistence, the man had probably been second-guessing himself about his targets.
   “So is it a deal?”
   A deal?
   Millis let out a noisy breath in scoffing.  The man obviously had no experience with a mercenary field before.
   “Details, sir.  Details.”
   “Er...right.”  The man cleared his throat.  “The wage is a two mil in total, so a million each--”
   “In Excellian currency?” Hyn interrupted, “In cash?”
   The black haired man raised his eyebrows.  “Well...I was thinking you’d want it in Excellian cash, but if you’d rather do something else...”
   “That’s fine,” Millis answered, giving his friend a pointed glare, “How many?  And who?”
   “Two.  It’s politics, so I’m expecting you to not get caught and so is the rest of the world.”
   Unabashed by Millis’ earlier unspoken rebuke, Hyn bumped the back of Millis’ head with his own skull and said in an undertone, “Ten bucks say it’s Consil Narcos.”
   “You’ll be beyond ten dollar bills once you make the kill,” the man countered, “Far beyond ten dollars...”
   He didn’t continue.
   An awkward silence fell into the air.
   “Wait...Consil...”
   Understanding fell a few seconds later, and Millis tightened his eyebrows, shaking his head in amazement when realization dawned.  Hyn whistled behind him, settled into his air of calm, and turned another page.  “Really.  Consil Narcos is the target?  Hah!  You owe me ten, dude.”
   “No.”  Millis’ denial was flat, and the stranger chuckled.
   “The job is already mapped.  Every step is planned out.  I have hands on the inside, and they will do their uttermost to ensure a smooth cover in case things go wrong.  Not to be cocky, but this job is way overpaid.  You’d be a fool to not take it.”
   Pocketing his phone, Millis folded his arms across his chest and flopped back in his seat.  Two minutes until boarding began; the man was intentionally cutting their time close.
   Two-mil for Consil Narcos, pre-orchestrated.
   It seemed so...easy.
   Too easy.
   Too impossible.  The Consils and Dibanes of Excellia were strictly guarded.  There was no way that the stranger could have found a way to break through the lines upon lines of defense, not unless if he was from inside, which would make sense.  Only another Consil or Dibane would want to eliminate one of their own.
   “What’s the catch?”
   “There is no catch,” the man replied cooly, “Narcos and his wife Narcam.  Dead without blood.”
   “Just dead?”
   “I’ll take care of the bodies,” the man agreed.
   Millis closed his eyes in deep thought, allowing another sixty-seconds to slip away as he examined the prospects from every angle.  A nudge against the back of his skull shook him from his thoughts, and he heard Hyn say, “I’m in if you’re in.”
   Millis stood, facing the stranger, an accusatory glare on his face that masked the pleasure he felt to be hired so soon.  “I want the plans, and if I don’t think it’s doable, you can find yourself another assassin to squander your life’s savings on.”
   “Where do you want them?”
   “In my hand.  Now.”
   As a flight attendant began to call out class fliers, the man shrugged on his backpack as he stood and walked into a store on the direct other side of the hall.  With raised eyebrows and building confusion, Millis watched the man browse a sports magazine, then put the issue away.  When he walked out of sight, a papery-yellow flap was poking out from behind the magazine.
   Millis felt his slight grin return.
   So maybe that idiot does know a thing after all...
   “Recall Rea and board the plane, Hyn.  I’ll be with you in a moment.”

   For the sixteenth time during the past half-hour of the flight, Hyn ran his fingers slowly through his already rumpled, golden hair.  There was mild exasperation on his face, but Millis wasn’t concerned.  He had learned over the years that any and all frustration belonging to Hyn was for show alone.
   The male never felt a loss; his greatest asset was adapting to new situations.
   Hyn chewed on the end of his pen and then tapped at a section of the floor plans with it.  “This is a seven second window.”
   “You can’t get from a door to up the stairs in seven seconds?”
   “If his measurements are right, I’d have to sprint this.”
   “Oh, woe are you,” Millis droned, “You actually have to get off your lazy butt and work.  Sounds horrifying.”
   Hyn glared at his friend and muttered sarcastically, “Have no idea how I’ll do it.”
   Rea turned from her laptop, letting her intelligent eyes wander the array of paper spilled out in front of the three on their trays.
   “I just can’t believe you two got hired again.”
   “Must just be our natural awesomeness,” Millis replied dryly before turning back to his intense study on the papers.  Rea said something, undoubtedly a cutting remark, but his mind was already focused elsewhere.
   It was impossible to assassinate a Consil or Dibane.
   The four families lived in four separate mansions, fifteen minutes’ drive from Excellia’s capitol building, each house located due north, east, south, and west.  As a general law, each family was required a bodyguard, and Millis knew that a straight-on attack at the bodyguard would have unknowable results.  The teaching methods in ELI were the same methods used for the trained bodyguards, so Millis would practically be fighting an older, stronger, more experienced version of himself.
   And some families had more than one protector.
   Narcos, particularly, had four bodyguards, three males and one female.
   Specifically, the papers said that Narcos lived in the South Manor.  Every door was constantly locked, first by electronic handles, then by reinforced bolt.  If the electronic handles were tampered with at any point in time, an alarm was sounded.  If the windows were opened from the outside or shattered, an alarm was sounded.  The main rooms were constantly monitored with surveillance cameras.
   Narcos had four bodyguards, three males and one female.
   It was impossible.
   And yet...
   Millis blinked the glaze out of his eyes and fixed his attention back on the papers.  He skimmed the plans once, then twice, checked another time for any possible mistakes.
   Somehow, that man had found a way in.

   During a forecasted and particularly heavy storm two days from present date, the power would be put out in Central at exactly a quarter before six o’clock ante meridiem by paid electricians.  All security precautions--the windows and doorknobs--would be eliminated by the outage, putting the bodyguards into action.  Nice to have that kind of money throw around, Millis mused darkly as he thought of his employer’s face.
   At six o’clock, the first male bodyguard would finish his sweep of the exterior grounds and go inside, downstairs, to bed.
   One eliminated.
   The female guard would already be asleep and would stay asleep for another quarter hour until her turn for the exterior sweep came.
   Two eliminated.
   Two other guards, both male, would have been making routes on the main-floor with flashlights since five while the family slept upstairs.  They had the morning shift, and, regardless of the outage, their paths were planned so that one was always in view of the elevator and stairs at all times.  To get to the family, it was necessary to get past them, a task virtually impossible.
   However, at eight-hundred and thirty seconds after six o’clock, the second male would be coming from the elevator towards the living room when the front doorbell would ring and a mailman would be asking for a signature before dropping off an empty package; the exchange was to last seven seconds at least, and consequently, the guards’ routes would be offset seven seconds.
   The mailman would leave, the guard would continue past the front door, Millis and Hyn would enter and, from there, finish the job.
   Seven seconds to get from the front door to the top floor; that would be their critical moment.
   Upstairs, they would make the kills and escape, unnoticed, through the windows.

   Millis leaned back into his seat and accepted a cold bottle of water from the snack cart that passed by; he didn’t realize how parched he was until the liquid was pouring down his throat.  Downing the entire bottle in one long draft, Millis set the empty container on his chair and closed his eyes again, letting his thoughts wander.
   Two million...
   Who was that joker anyway?
   The man had been right; they were overpaid.
   The job was just too simple.
   Millis felt his mind automatically turn over the possibilities and motives behind the work, but try as he could, he was left in the dark.

~ ~ ~

There you have it!

I have a lot of Author's Notes to come.  :D

Write on!

Clove

Dark darkity dank darkness - my favourite

Hi, all of you!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  I have to admit that for about the past month, I have been writing nothing but little bits and pieces for this amazing pantheon of authors.  Honestly, it's like my dream-come-true to be writing around with my brother, my best male friend, my best female friend, and some of my most beloved mentors, and, yes, I've left this corner of cyberspace shockingly silent for masses of time.

In the blog above, I'm writing as one of my favourite types of characters: that dark guy who creeps everyone out, doesn't give an anything, and is generally over-powered.  If you'd ask me why I like writing as depressed, misunderstood, hating charries, I'd probably tell you that I just get far more inspiration from my friends who are moody than I do from people who are cocky, happy, or just plain hot-headed.  To me, dark charries are easy.

To you, however, that might not be the case.  That said, if you ever want to try your hand at writing a mirthless, malevolent character, here are some of my personal tips for doing so:

     --Choose your music very carefully.

Moody people are, duh, moody.  That means that they will drive into all range of emotional highs, including anguished arguments, bitter tears, and deadly silence, and, if you don't have a soundtrack ready, your music can very easily force your dark character into Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.  If you have a Pandora (they should pay me for advertising, right?  x)), I have a station for the artists: "Globus" and "E.S. Posthumus", and I highly recommend that station for writing.  After weeding out those annoying fiddle/electric guitar stomps and bizarre Indie tracks, I've got a list of powerful, dark, glorious tracks that work wonderfully well.

     --Write according to gender.

As a stereotypical whole, dark guys are more powerful and prone to the anger side of things while dark girls are more mystical and prone to tears.  I am driven crazy when I read someone's dark male character who weeps like a baby or when I read someone's dark female character who is as bold-hearted as Iskandar the Great.  Be consistent!  I consider it better to stick with this stereotype than to shoot for creativity and miss your mark.

     --Logical reason is necessary!

Okay, guys, if your character is dark, please make sure that he/she has a reason to be dark.  A torturous backstory is always nice, and continual reminders of past struggles are golden nuggets when you're writing as a depressed darkie.  However, it's also necessary to give your charrie a philosophy.  Take the most heretical thoughts that are humanly possible and twist them into the mind of your character along with other perverted attitudes and ideas.  The more dark one is, the more logical reason for darkness is necessary.

A good question to ask yourself is this: Would I myself become an apathetic, grim version of myself is such-and-such-backstory occurred?  If the answer is no, then the answer for your character is no.  Don't try to stretch it, and don't be afraid to come up with a miserable, miserable, miserable existence for your darkie.

They need it.

     --Keep your character looking awesome.

Another great fault (along with gender mis-matching behavior) that is common to dark characters is that they are too moody and end up looking pathetic.  I admit, so far, I've very decently beat up Jace, the Dark Elf I'm writing as for the aforementioned blog.  Being a male teenager, he has a serious temper that gets him beaten by his surrogate father, and he just recently happened to pick a duel with a demon killer, so, at the moment, he's not doing so hot physically.  It sounds like I'm violating my own tips, aren't I?  I've made Jace too moody, and now he's looking pathetic.

Not necessarily.

You can beat your character left and right, but, as long as you keep a healthy amount of passion in that character, he/she won't care for whatever conks him in the head.  Throughout all of these fights, Jace hardly bats an eyelash at his wounds, and he appears in control during each of his battles.  In fact, he enjoys the pain because he sees little worth in a goal if it comes so easily.  (Again, that's part of his philosophy that makes him so dark.)

     --Humanity is also necessary!

Don't breed monsters, guys.

Jace has feelings too.  x)  While majorly dispassionate, Jace is engaged to a girl, and he delights in his fiancée.  When beaten, he does hold grudges, and, when spurned, he does loathe his existence too.  The trick to the balance between apathy and emotion is this: your character should have emotion, but he/she should not care.

     --Bring out those beautiful special adjectives.

Try words like: grim, dark, moody, obsidian, marble, smooth, unmoved, dispassionate, apathetic, growl, snarl, jagged, and clenched.  Work especially hard on your phrasing to give your darkie the utmost beautiful, likable darkness.  If you shoot for and achieve making your character despicable but still relatable, I promise: you will have the greatest fan group you have ever had before on any charrie.

  "He looked peaceful.  There was no rage in his eyes like there was when he was awake and conscious to the brutality of the world.  Eyes closed, he was so powerful, even in his sleep."

  "As always, Jace was leaned back in his seat with his power displayed in his lazy dispassion."

  "Jace’s finger pads began to roam his lower face: cold nails on cheeks, thumb on stubble, upper palm on silky, skin-toned lips."

  "The shadows under the muscles on the side of his face deepened visibly as a cloud of impatient anger descended on his face."

If you ever do end up using these devices to write your own darkie, give me a notice so I can read what you wrote!  I'm excited to see what comes out of your guys brains as well as mine during this adventure.

Write on!

Clove

The Importance of Studying Books

Okay, so, in my last two posts, I've just bombarded you with ten of the best books in the world.

Now what?

Well, guys, if any of you are into playing musical instruments, you probably know that it's good to listen to music as well as to play it, and, if you'r really into playing musical instruments, then you probably study the sounds as you listen to them.  For example, if I hear Mr. Itzhak Perlman play Allegro and Prelludium and if I find myself enjoying his vibrato, I'll then ask myself, "What is he doing to get such good vibrato?"

The same rule applies to reading and writing.
("Study".  Hai, hai, I realize I put that word in this blog about writing which is supposed to be fun, but, hey, as much as I dislike the leg-work, finals are coming around the corner, so I figured I might just hide the necessary thing in the bustle of Christmastime school-work loads.  x))

If I read a book that I really like (say...Beowulf, for example), I, of course, have to ask myself, "How is the author of Beowulf obtaining so-and-so?"

If the so-and-so pertains to a particular character, I keep my eyes peeled for description paragraphs on the character and other minute details that pile up over the length of the story so that I myself will know how to write a character of the same kind by using the techniques of another author.  Even if the antagonist is the really well-written so-and-so, I can still "study" the author's writing.

Now, don't think that this process is grueling and Asian and meh.  Oftentimes, you can hide the most dramatic "fangirling" by putting on your steel-rimmed, bridge-taped, fifty-ton bottle-glasses and saying to all your accusers, "What?  Fangirling?  No, of course not.  I'm merely studying the text so that I can expand my own writing capabilities."  Then, when they're all gone, you take off your nerdy glasses and enjoy an in-depth study of your favorite character/setting/scenario with all of your squealing laughs and suppressed giggles.  It. just. works.  x)

Of course, every author is different, so I can't specifically tell you what to be looking for.  However, if you have a book that you really enjoy, your studying should circulate around the question I presented above: How is the author of such-and-such obtaining so-and-so?
Once you have that down, again, keep your eyes open as if you were the book's editor and fangirl, fangirl, fangirl study, study, study.  When you think you have some of the proper writing techniques, vocabulary picks, and sentence structures, try your hand at mimicking the author of such-and-such by writing your own so-and-so.

Good luck!

Write on!
Clove

My Favorite Books...really. - Part II

Hello, hello all!  It's yours truly, back with part two of the books that you MUST read to complete your education as a human being.
(By the way, I was also thinking: if you're stuck when it comes to Christmas presents, these books would all make awesome gifts.  Spread the intelligence, peoples.  x))

5. The Ranger's Apprentice Series - John Flannagan

In contrast to the previous classic/educational novels, there's The Ranger's Apprentice Series, a group of twelve books, following the life and adventures of Will Treaty, an archer and Ranger for the king.  John Flannagan is like Rick Riordan with his pacing; he knows the exact measurements of tension and humor to put into his writing, and it moves at such a speed that, once you pick up a book, you never want to put it down until you reach the end, and, even then, you want the next book in the series right after that one.  However, unlike Rick Riordan, who centralizes around mythology, John Flannagan works in a medieval setting, utilizing black, eerie forests, maidens, and single combat duels with a modern-day sense of language and humor.

4. The Mysterious Benedict Society Series - Stewart Lee Trenton

With only three books, this series is...just...indescribable.  Stewart plays mind games with his reader by riddles, morse code, and mysterious elements.  Nonetheless, I still wouldn't call this series a mystery series because, while the characters in the novels are constantly seeking to understand and decode various patterns, the plot still flows, and the characters are never bogged down with long interrogations or hunts for clues.  Oh, and did I mention that these characters are like...superhumanly awesome?  Introducing a pantheon of children: Reynie, our natural, out-of-the-box-thinking leader; Kate, twelve-year-old physical extraordinaire; Sticky, speed-reader whose brain is a fly trap for information; and Constance, a girl who is very, very, young.  (If you're hooked, then good.  Go read it. :D)

3. The Derwood Series - Jeri Massi

Do you all remember my two biggest writing walls?  I can't write religion in fiction, and I can't write like a male.  Well, here you have Jeri Massi, master of both.  Her charries are all young children, but those children are placed in life-threatening situations and emotionally-challenging stances.  Her plot forces them to find God, but the ingenuity and choices of her characters themselves shine out so that God isn't a mere plot-device.  Ohhh, guys, Jeri sees life as a child, making her charries totally capable of your fullest empathy; she has this amazing sense of humor; her descriptions are vivid and never boring; her books range from city-life to San Francisco to out in the country to underneath Wisconsin in the sewers; her baddies are shockingly bad but never obscene.  If my words haven't gotten you excited, have some steering fluid and BE EXCITED.

2. Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

Dystopian but not depressing, Fahrenheit 451 was the Hunger Games before the Hunger Games, the Divergent before the Divergent.  In fact, if I asked Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth if they got any inspiration from Fahrenheit 451, I'd be willing to bet that they have.  Piercing straight to the future, Ray Bradbury portrayed humankind in such realistic, shocking colors, I felt like I was slapped in the face and told, "WAKE UP.  WAKE UP."  Why?  In his novel, Ray displays a vulgar sense of violence with teens driving down streets and crashing into people for fun; he scrutinizes the result of books dying out; he shows the effects of war.  Basically, he, living back then, focused on now (which was the future for him) and wrote it out.  They're scary, the implications!  Furthermore, Ray paints us modern technological people in a manner that made me seriously rethink my priorities.  We have games, shows, laughter, chatter, but the question Ray presented is: are we really happy?  When we talk, do we really talk, or are there just worthless words flowing out of our mouths about him and her and this and that?  Furthermore, what are we happy with?  This book challenges our existence.

1. The Bible - by God

Of course, the answer to all of the questions above can be found in this book.  Guys, I don't even list this here because I want to advocate my religion.  Yes, I do, but, even more, I list this book because it is necessary.  We're so caught up with our physical lives: what we eat, what we wear, how we learn, who he is, how she looks, what to do, that we have little to no sense of gentle emotion and absolutely no care for where we go when we die.  By sacrificing our happiness for what we think is "pleasure", we're emotionally dying by suicide, and there is no self-help book that could pluck us from our hidden, unknown misery.  "Self-help" means that we're capable of helping ourselves, but the truth is...we're not.  Can a zombie read about the living and become alive again?  No.  That's why this book, written by a living God, is necessary; it shows us how to become alive: spiritually and emotionally.

So, there you have it!

Write/read on!
Clove

My Favorite Books...really.

Hey all, you're back with the one and only me.

The title is shocking, I know.  I hardly dare to list my favorite books...IN ORDER...and publish the list for it to be unmovable in ages to come.  In fact, even as I sit here typing this, three massive bookshelves on my left are staring at me with hundreds, maybe a thousand, books that hate me for not choosing them as their favorite.  Who knows?  When I'm sleeping...when my back is turned...they'll kill me...by death...via...paper cut...
I can't fathom their plotting, those genius files.
However, I am going to go through with this plan, and, if I return wholly lacerated...well...I return wholly lacerated.  This list is a list of ten books that you MUST read, and, so long as you do read them, the pain will be bearable.  :)

That said...here we go!

10. The Swiss Family Robinson - Johann Wyss

I love this book for its structure.  I can pick it up, open practically anywhere, and be entertained by the wonders of island survival, a classic spin to sylvan survival elements we see in many modern day novels.  Adventure, romance, and a magical sense of solitude gently enfold this novel with delicate care that "hugs you" but doesn't "chain you".  Plus, who doesn't like hearing about ostrich omelets and kangaroo-shooting contests and melon gardens?!

9. Oedipus - Sophocles

Because it is a Greek drama, Oedipus is full of great one-liners and dialogue quotes.  The characters each have their own massive personalities, and the threats they face are interestingly fated, unlike the forge-your-own-path ideas of modern day books.  Amidst all of the mythical action, however, Oedipus sometimes feels like a comic book, a handful of memes, and a bunch of Chinese proverbs pasted together, creating a voice that I thoroughly enjoy.  It's not too ancient, it's not too long, and it's never too geeky to read a Greek drama as good as Oedipus.

8. The Witches - Roald Dahl

Everyone, mother, father, sister, brother, ehv-ur-ee-won needs a little Roald Dahl in their life.  The Witches was one of my favorites because of its adult-like quality.  Leaving behind the bustling factory of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and the dangerous bone-crunching giants of The BFG, The Witches ascends to a sense of affection between a grandmother and a grandson that is in no way overly mawkish or dramatized.  While still walking the fine line between too cute and too scary, Roald Dahl also managed to mix in the element of love, and his execution was flawless.

7. The Screwtape Letters - C.S. Lewis

A+ to C.S. Lewis for hitting humankind right on the head.  At first, this book can seem a little confusing because C.S. Lewis is playing Devil's advocate...literally.  But once you get going, the sheer truth in the words of C.S. Lewis' masterpiece is enough to make you weep.  Mentally analytical when looking at man and ingenious when crafting his words, C.S. Lewis has been praised over and over for his books, this one being no exception.  Google his name, and you'll find professors who are C.S. Lewis fanboys by the dozen.

6. Parallel Lives - Lucius Mestrius Plutarchus

Imagine a Roman tavern where a bunch of massively-built Roman men are sitting around, boasting about their past and current leaders when a sly, wise Greek sneaks in the back and starts mentioning Greek heroes who were grander than the Roman heroes mentioned - Theseus (Greek) for Romulus (Roman), Alcibiades (Greek) for Coriolanus (Roman), and Alexander the Great (Greek) for Julius Caesar (Roman).  For each Roman name that the Romans shout out, the clever, little Greek has a Greek name with which to best the former.  A showdown of champions is what this is, and Plutarch really brings on the biography.  Colorful in description and amazing to ponder, Parallel Lives is definitely one of the coolest histories out there.

And there are your first five!  The next five will be here tomorrow.

Write on!
Clove
P.S. Were you guys wondering where I went?  Sorry, sorry, I got sucked into the RP blog I was mentioning earlier.  It's up, running, and awesome, and you can find it here.  If you all are wondering, my character is called "Jace Dracon", and he is just about the most darkest, beautifullest, amazingest thing since dark, beautiful, amazing things were created.  XD