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Saturday, June 11, 2011

Visual Concepts

So, while writing, this whole time I've had to keep visual concepts and ideas in my head about the characters in the setting. But do you know what would be so much easier? If I found things related to them and posted them!

So, here are some of my characters and settings!:


Okay, so when I imagine him, I imagine him as having the depth of Robert Pattinson in Remember Me

But I don't imagine David looking like him, not quite.

Maybe something sort-of like this older photo of Orlando Bloom (above), but a little scruffier.


I can imagine this picture of Jake Gyllenhaal as Max, except with brown eyes


Except maybe with some more facial hair...

anyways, I think that these are good representations of my characters for now!


Tuesday, May 31, 2011


So about a month ago, I made a very important decision.

I no longer feel the need to support the cruel killing of animals, and so I've become a vegetarian. It's not only better for the animals, but it's also better for the environment and my health personally.

I feel like I have more energy, actually. It's a wonderful feelings, and I cook my own meals every night, too. Many time I make them from scratch, coming up with recipes off the top of my head. Tonight I made myself some soup, and even my siblings admitted that it was really good. PLUS, I have leftovers!!

One of my favorite things? Italian food. I'm Italian, and so I embrace my heritage with an open mind - and an empty stomach. We Italians are known for our good cooking, and I'm extremely proud of that!

Though I'm not really a cook, I intend to get better. This is wonderful practice! I can make lots of vegetarian-friendly Italian dishes, such as pasta with sauce and mushrooms. add in some garlic, and you're good to go!

One of the sites I go to a lot for inspiration, is PETA, and I've found lots of great resources, articles, and recipes from there.

Because, you know: The only difference between our animal companions and the animals we eat for food are how we treat them.

Whereas I'm not going to make my life goal speaking out for animals, I think that being vegetarian is enough for me. I'm not participating in the cruelty, and whereas I feel that I can blog about it and talk to people who ask, I don't want to make the friends and family I have feel guilty about something that they are choosing for themselves.
It's a personal choice, and I've made mine. I respect others, and I hope I'm extended the same courtesy.

Love to all, including the animals,


Tuesday, May 17, 2011


So, I've been in the process of obtaining an agent for a while now. Publishers have also expressed some interest, though my book isn't even completely done, but I've declined everyone.

Do you know why?

Of course not. That's why I'm writing this post!

I've decided to be an indie author. I want to be in control of the designing, creating, and publishing process, plus I don't want to sign over any rights to my novel. I want to earn more percentage profit than I would if I went with a traditional publisher, and honestly - I'm not expecting my book to be a huge hit.

Why? Because I'm not writing a book to get famous. I'm not writing a book to make money. Those things are nice, but honestly I'm writing my novel because it's what I do. It's what I love, and what inspires and drives me. I've always been better with a pen (or a keyboard) than I have with my words verbally, and so it's all just how I express myself and where I escape to. I write because I'm a writer/I'm a writer because I write. Simple? Not as much as you think.

Writing is hard. There are so many excuses for distractions, so many different ways you can obtain procrastination, and so much OTHER things to do or that you find to do as soon as you think, "I need to get to writing."

So, I mostly write longhand, honestly. The internet (mostly Facebook, though!) is SO distracting, and I find myself having other windows open instead of my novel. So I write whenever and where ever I can, and this constitutes during school-time. Yes, there are many times I barely pay attention in class because of this ( but no worries! I'm an "a" student! ) I'm the girl in the back of the class, pretending to pay attention or write notes when honestly I'm scribbling down every little thought that crosses my brain novel-wise.

So, anyways, I've decided to take charge and be an indie author. I'm going to publish locally, online, and through a self-publisher where people can have my novel shipped to them. I'm so excited that I'm closer to being done, and ultimately closer to having a copy of it in print! I promise you that I will carry it everywhere I go, because I will be absolutely in love with the book-copy of my novel. Hurray!

So, that's the end of my discussion for now. Later on I'll include more information about my novel, online publishing, and how I'm obtaining copyright permissions from poets and/or the copyright holders of certain poems, because I'm including snippets at the beginning of every chapter.

I reached the 200 page mark today! Yes, my novel is semi-already-formatted, so these are novel-sized pages I'm talking about. 200 of them! 52,000 words!!!!

Man, I have a lot more to go...

Forever and always,

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Vote On a Quote!

and become a fan on my page of Facebook there! Please do so!

I'm doing a ceiling tile for my English class, and my teacher has asked me to paint on it and include a quote from the novel I'm almost done writing! However, choosing a quote is a bit more difficult than I thought it would be, seeing as I'm a bit biased with my novel and can't find just one good quote to sum it up. So, I know that barely any of you have read this, so I'm asking you to vote on a quote for me. Comment, send me a message, post on my wall, post on this group's wall - whatever - just please give me some feedback! 

This novel is Ya-Ya (Young adult written by young adult), and though it can be read by either gender, it is mainly directed at females. It's a contemporary fantasy and has romance in it (as any good novel does ;) ), so even though you may not know what my novel is about, these quotes may help you further understand.

“The trees in the forest around me were oblivious to their sad deaths, their apparel in a runway blanketing the floor. I could feel a chill in my chest - a hollow, empty feeling that meant that I would soon shed my skin. It was a sensation I looked forward to in a way, yet also dreaded. I didn’t want to give up my legs, my fingers, or my dull human senses. I felt that when I lose those, I lost my true self.” – Brooke

“Sometimes I felt like I was in love with the wrong skin; the wrong form; the wrong me. Which form allows me to escape the most? I asked myself.” – Brooke

“I felt a pang when I realized that I didn’t belong anywhere. There would never be one complete me. As a wolf, human boiled under my fur; as a human, wolf hid beneath my skin.
I must be destined for loneliness. – Brooke

“That’s when I saw him, up on stage. Intrepid fingers plucking his bass guitar, and as he anchored the beat it was as if his music anchored my heart, laying out my pulse. I watched him and how he skillfully grooved, the way he poured himself into his music, and yet I also noticed how his eyes never met anyone’s in the audience. I was fascinated, watching as he glanced around the room.
But his eyes met mine then, and for the first time in my life I felt vulnerable.” – Brooke

“She pushed the hair out of her face and leaned forward, gripping her coffee mug tightly. I wanted to do something - to tuck her hair behind her ear, to touch her collarbone that was so prominent above her shirt, or to just reach over and take a hold of her hand. Instead, I gripped my hands together to keep them from doing anything, because I didn’t know how she would react. I focused on her eyes, holding me prisoner and luring me in with their gold flecks and their guarded expression.” – David

 I woke up to my wolf’s howl, and it tore at me, seeming to rouse my own inner wolf. His voice rose in a crescendo, clinging onto the agonized notes, and then more voices quickly joined until the entirety of the pack sounded as if they were calling to me right outside my window. I listened to the chorus until it ended, just as sadly as it had started, and I knew that it was meant for me - the missing wolf. I later managed to slip back into a restless sleep, but I dreamt no more that night.” - Brooke

“Don’t leave me,” I panicked.
I didn’t open my eyes, but I tried to breathe deeply, calming myself down after my embarrassing outburst. I felt someone sit down next to me, and I smelled Max and the wolf in him.
I have to go,” Max said sadly. “I feel it.”
“I know,” I breathed. “I feel it too.” It was clinging to his skin.
“I’ll always be your wolf though. I’ll never change. When I’m in that body, I’m still myself. I’m still Max. Still yours.
“I know,” I whispered again.
He sighed and leaned forward to kiss my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin, and I knew then that it was our last goodbye for the Winter.
At least we got to have one.
I started slipping away, and then he slipped away too, out the door and into his wolf, then beyond the trees and into the forest. ” - Brooke

“”Let’s go out to breakfast,” I said, and she rolled off of me and out of bed so gracefully that it made me want to pull her back to me. But I decided to let her go.” – David

“I held him as he pulled me to him, holding us close together. I felt like the world was going too slow and we were trapped in the middle of a time pause, caught in this beautiful forest with the trees surrounding us, watching us.
And I felt then that the wolves were quietly watching, too.” - Brooke
  ““Can’t you stay with me?” he asked me hopefully.
“No, but won’t you stay with me?” I was starting to shake, and goose bumps were rising on my arms even though my body felt like it was burning up.
“Always.” He promised.
And I groaned then, the wolf in me escaping.” - Brooke
  “But at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to sleep. Selfish. And I blamed the monster.” – Brooke

“He darted away again, leaving me alone with only my thoughts and memories of a girl I was not.” – Brooke
“As I ran towards the forest, headed towards the wolves with my feet lightly skimming over the floor, it was as if I could feel Winter chasing me with her icy fingers. She was reaching out to me, enticing me with her snow and her cold beauty, but my heart beat warmly inside of my chest in response.” - Brooke

“She first was a girl who shifted into wolf - then a wolf who shifted back into my girl.
She was beautiful in both forms. As a human, she had long, wavy, dark brown hair; green eyes flecked with gold; high cheekbones and a tan complexion; a slender, soft figure; and a white, breathtaking smile despite the coffee that lingered constantly on her breath. The smell was dark and sexy in a way - it reminded me of writers and poets; musicians and complex thinkers - and I loved it, even though I didn’t drink coffee myself. As a wolf, she kept her green eyes and her delicate, slender figure, but her fur was snow-white, pure and spotless. She had such a wild, untamed feeling to her that I was both fascinated and frightened of her at the same time. But yet I wanted nothing more than to protect her. It was an instinct of mine that I didn’t understand.” – David

She opened her eyes and they met mine, and I knew then that she was something otherworldly.
Not “otherworldly” as in alien, but “otherworldly” as in special and extraordinary, exceptional and eccentric, weird and wonderful, amazing and yet so bizarre. I felt as if this girl could travel past Andromeda, past the nebulas, the elliptical galaxies, the nimbuses and all of the stars. The universe was hers to explore, and I was lucky that she wanted to explore it with me.
She’d told me so, though she didn’t have to with her lips.” – David

“The cause, the thing that is causing this to occur in us wolves, causing us to die,” Iblis continued, “is ourselves. Our humanity.”” – David

“And as I fell asleep in his embrace, and as he held me together, the two untamable parts of me that were wolf and girl, I had never felt more in love.
But I had also never felt more at war.” – Brooke

“I couldn’t do anything except pull her to my chest. I hoped she understood that my arms were her sanctuary, and my heart was her home.” – David

“I didn’t say anything, instead taking a seat at a chair across from him. He didn’t acknowledge me, his eyes seeming to look right through me as if I was nothing more to him that dust.
That’s all we humans really are though – dust.
But did I really believe that? What determined life? I knew for certain that the beautiful girl upstairs was much more than dust, even if that dust was stardust. She was radiant. She had a soul.Did I? Did everybody?
Dust.” – David

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

No Poem Deserves a Title

I glide past the staffs
and the nebulas and ledger lines,
Sliding past Pluto's touch 
                       and your arms.

Skimming the surface of the unknown,
I'm lovingly held there, suspended,
before I plunge in,
immersing myself beneath the tides of
everdom, searching for an infinite
beyond these chords.

When I close my eyes, colors
flash along my lashes
and jump into my vision,
silhouettes of you in glowing shadows.

With leopard vision I seek
the One with zebra stripes,
but am surprised to find Him
painting stars on my heart.

Unlocking it, I let him enter,
and he kindles a fire that
burns in my hair.
I let you play for my deafened ears,
but all I hear are rests, for
your tempo ran away
with the fermata,
and you are left holding nothing
ever since you decided you had a
different melody, and harmony just
wasn't your cup of coffee.

Still burning, the comets
run through my veins as I
meander along the coast of the
seventh galaxy,
thinking that "Hallelujah" is just
the most beautiful word.

I bite my pen as I think.

Returning to the coda, I trail
an eighth and some quarters,
wondering if you read the notes
I've left behind,
back when you still loved me
and the rests meant just as much
as my running.

Oh, you know I ran to you,
the kindling still between my ribs
as our teeth clanked together,
and as I dreamed in
black and white,
                          you said you did, too.

But nothing could convince you to stay.

So I left, and now He has
me, carrying me beyond the
vibrancy of the planets in their
sleepy turning. Every planet
is a giant, believe it or not.
                and I still love you, believe it or not.

and I still love.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Writing Desk - Essential, Right?

I'm so excited to be working on my first novel! and of course, every writer needs a good desk, correct?

Down the street, there was this beautiful desk that was on someone's front porch. "FREE DESK" was announced on a piece of paper taped to the front. "That's cool," I thought as I headed out that morning. When I headed back home, I saw that it was still there. "Someone hasn't claimed it yet?" I thought, surprised. It was gorgeous, though a bit big. But gorgeous.

I hurried home to set my stuff down, and then hurried back to ring the doorbell. I was going to claim that desk. No one answered, so I headed back home to grab a piece of paper and a pen, where I constructed a note saying something like,

I'm expressing interest in the free desk that you have advertised. If no one has claimed it yet, I would very much like to.

You can contact me at --- --- ---- anytime.

Thank you,
Kristen Camino

and then I hurried to tape it to their front door.

Later that night, the lady called me back and told me that I got the desk! I kept myself professional as I thanked her and asked if I could come pick it up tomorrow, and she accepted and told me to just give her a call before I came over.

I called the next day in the afternoon and asked if I could come get it between 5:30 and 6. She said that that would be fine, just make sure I rang the doorbell to let her know I was there.

I waited for my dad and brothers to get home, but it turned out that my younger brother was auditioning for a talent show that night and we had no idea when he was coming home. So my 9-year-old sister and I headed over there by ourselves, thinking that we could just easily carry it home.

When we rang the doorbell and the lady came to the door, she took one look at us and asked if we had a truck. "No," I said, and then proceeded to explain how my dad and brother's weren't there and our plan to just go ahead and grab the desk because we were probably strong enough and could get it home with only a minor struggle. The lady laughed and said that maybe my dad and brothers could carry it, but more possibly we'd have to bring a dolly and wheel it home.

My sister and I went ahead and made two trips to bring all the drawers home in our arms. When we got home from the second trip, my brothers and dad were just pulling in the driveway. I hurried out to meet them and told them that I needed help carrying the desk home, so my brothers and sister and I headed out once again.

It was STILL too heavy for us. We were struggling along, making frequent breaks to set it down and rest our shaking arms and aching muscles. The older of my youngest brothers suddenly ran off, and since he was the strongest of all of us we were very annoyed, but still struggled on in attempts to bring home my new desk (It was just down the street - but carrying heavy objects seems to make distances longer).

When he returned, it was with two scooters and a skateboard. He had us move out of the way and then showed us a plan that would work - he put the desk on top of the skateboard in the back, and then two scooters in the front. Of course, the desk had to be positioned just perfectly on the scooters so that the brakes weren't constantly being pushed upon, so two of us managed the scooter, one put weight on the skateboard and helped push the desk, and then the other helped to steer and hold it up a bit.

It worked perfectly! With minor faults and some bumping around, we got the desk home much sooner than we would have otherwise. For every car that passed us we ducked our heads down and said aloud, "Please don't look at us like we're crazy. Please don't look at us like we're crazy. Please..."

When we got home and pulled the cars out of the driveway, we somehow managed to huff and puff and get it into the house and into my room. But as we all stood there looking at it, the desk took up half of my room and left basically no space to do anything else.

"I'm in love with this desk..." I protested as everyone laughed.

But we ended up moving it out of my room and into a room that was already full of desks.

But besides that, I now have a huge, beautiful writing desk to call my own - for FREE. and The drawers are already being filled with notepads, pens, and sticky notes.

Writing is most definitely an adventure.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Chapter Two

I fell for you
Slowly, like a decrescendo
- Kristen Camino, The Composition

I looked over and saw her sitting by herself at the table closest to the door. She didn’t look like she was waiting on or expecting anyone, so I assumed she had come here like me - to lose herself in a way that enabled her to be found. Music. She looked like it held her here, rooted in her being just as much as it was rooted in mine. I was awestruck.

She watched me with an inhuman familiarity, her green eyes smoldering and setting me aflame. I know her from somewhere, I thought. Her dark brown hair framed her face, and her hands were clasped together as she leaned back in her chair, her legs folded underneath her chair as she crossed them. She held no novel or steaming cup of coffee in her hands, but she just sat and focused on me, a thoughtful expression on her face that smoothed out after a few seconds into a kind of calm that was contagious.

Suddenly it wasn’t as if I was playing for the rest of the audience – it was as if I was playing for her.
I faltered, my fingers fumbling for what felt like the first time in years, but as I quickly recovered, I noticed her lips turn up just slightly. Her head cocked perceptibly to one side as she listened.

I drifted into a new song. It was one that I’d never played before, but my fingers knew what to do, smoothly gliding along the strings of my bass as if I’d rehearsed it a million times already. I had no idea what it was, but for once I didn’t think that I really needed to. The girl was watching me as if she knew that I was playing it for her, something in her eyes intriguing me, and so I didn’t take my eyes from her until I voyaged to the end of what was now her song.

People started clapping, and before I exited the stage and cased my guitar, I said a quick thanks into the microphone, trying not to sound ungrateful for the rest of the audience, though at this moment I wasn’t concerned about their opinions. I knew that she would wait for me - I felt something unspoken between us – but I hurried anyways.

            She was still sitting there at the table, pretending to look down at her hands, but I could tell that she was actually watching me out of the corner of her eyes. I headed her way, noticing how her eyes lit up as she looked up and at me, and took a seat in the chair across from where she was sitting. Her eyebrows lifted in a knowing way, a smile playing on her lips. I knew then that she’d been expecting me to come over, and I had proved her right.

            “Would you like some coffee?” I asked her, and she smiled in response – something I appreciated. Her smile spoke more for her than words ever could. I could just see her as being a coffee girl, and apparently I was right, for as soon as I came back with our coffees she accepted it with cold, grateful hands.

            “Thank you,” she said, and in those two words I fell in love with her warm, honey voice.

            She pushed the hair out of her face and leaned forward, gripping her coffee mug tightly. I wanted to do something - to tuck her hair behind her ear, to touch her collarbone that was so prominent above her shirt, or to just reach over and take a hold of her hand. Instead, I gripped my hands together to keep them from doing anything, because I didn’t know how she would react. I focused on her eyes, holding me prisoner and luring me in with their gold flecks and their guarded expression.

            “Where did you learn how to play?” She tilted her head towards where my case lay against the wall by the small stage.

            “I taught myself.” She nodded, pursing her lips in a thoughtful way.

            “I’m actually very boring,” I admitted.

            She laughed, and its musical lilt hung in the air between us. “That’s not true! I find you interesting.”

            And there she was doing it again, mesmerizing me with those eyes. It seemed to me as if she wasn’t even knowingly doing it.

            “Do you live here? I’ve never seen you around.”

            In reply she looked down into her coffee cup. I waited for her spoken response, and after a couple of long seconds she quietly said, “Yeah, I’ve lived here my whole life.”

            “Do you go to high school here?” I was a senior this year, turning eighteen next April.

            “No, I’m home schooled.” I caught a wrong note in her voice, but I didn’t call her out on it.

            I looked at her curiously and said, “I feel like I know you from somewhere... Where have I seen you before?”

            She shrugged and kept her eyes cast downward, but I continued to analyze her, trying to put a memory to her face. She looked like she was thinking about what she could say - or what she was allowed to tell me. Why is she holding back? The guilty look on her face confused me, and I wondered what could be so secretive. Was she hiding something?

            “Have you eaten yet? Are you hungry? The bread and muffins here are really good,” I lightly changed the subject, and she looked up from under her lashes, smiling at me gratefully.

            “Not yet, but I’m actually not that hungry.” She took another sip of her coffee, and I noticed how her lips perfectly parted as she set her cup down, a white sliver of her perfect teeth barely visible. I hurried and diverted my eyes down to my own untouched coffee before she could notice.

            She surprised me by somewhat changing the subject back, although I detected hesitancy in her words. “Do you play here often? I come here a lot, and I myself have played here a few times, but I don’t think I completely recognize you…”

            “I play here on Tuesdays and Thursdays for some extra cash and the opportunity for practice.”

            She nodded, “I’ve played here some Fridays and Saturdays. We’ve probably crossed paths a few times. By the way, my name is Brooklyn. But most people call me Brooke. Brooke Clarino.”

            I held out my hand, and then it clicked. I recognized that name! “I’m David! David Berceuse! I do know you! You’re the one who I’d always see here, browsing the books and begging her dad for coffee! Do you remember how we met, in the music shop with our instruments and then running into one another here at the cafĂ©? We used look for books together and talk about music?”

            She reached her right hand out and shook my outstretched hand, her fingers pausing against mine, her eyes bright with recognition. “I remember now! I think that was when I was in 8th grade…”

            I grinned wide, thrilled at meeting her again. “I was a freshman in high school then! How did we ‘fall apart’? We didn’t see each other again after those few months, from the middle of summer to fall…”

            Yet, it felt like I’d known her my whole life. I didn’t know why, but I felt completely comfortable with her already, having nothing to hide from her. I felt as if she was one of my friends who had gone on vacation for a week and then returned. This beautiful, mysterious, [somewhat] stranger had somehow already wormed herself into me. I felt an urge to get to know her better, wanting nothing else than to just talk to her; she intrigued me in a way that other girls did not, but it felt so natural to be with her.

            “You have a really good voice! Do you ever sing?” she asked as she broke my thoughts, her eyes darting down to my lips and back up to my eyes in such a subtle way that I wasn’t sure if it hadn’t been imagined.

            “Thank you, I actually don’t put lyrics to my songs though; I just play the music and it says all that it needs to,” to myself I thought that that sounded lame, so I truthfully added, “I’d like to hear you sing sometime, though. I’m sure it would be beautiful.”

            She smiled shyly and said nothing, just looked at me and then down to my coffee.

            “Not a fan?” She asked, her eyebrows coming together in what I read as confusion. She was probably wondering why I’d bought it in the first place if I wasn’t going to drink it.

            “Not really,” I admitted, “But it does warm up my hands.”

            She laughed lightly and took another, dramatic sip of hers. “I don’t see how you can’t be a fan! This is my drug.”

            I looked at her as if trying to take a mental snapshot, and she noticed and smiled her perfect, dazzling smile. One of her eyebrows lifted so slightly that I knew that it wasn’t something she was doing on purpose, or probably even something that she knew about herself. To know something about her that she wasn’t even aware of about herself felt somehow intensifying.

            She glanced at her cell phone, which had been lying beside her napkin on the table. “I probably ought to get going; it’s getting late and cold. But can we meet again?”

            “Of course!” I said. “May I have your number? Do you want to meet here tomorrow at noon?”

            “Yes and yes,” she said, and I pulled out my phone to get her contact information, appealed at having another chance to see her again so soon.

            “Brooke Clarino,” she repeated her name and then put her number in my phone.

            “I’ll see you at noon tomorrow,” I told her.

            And then she gracefully got up and walked out the door and into my life.