November: On Repeat (Special Edition)

Since November was NanoWrimo month I didn’t really allow my ears to hear much outside of the playlist for my NanoNovel, Crack the Sky. Because of this I’ve decided to simply post said playlist (or at least the 10 songs with the highest play counts at the end of my NanoWrimo mania).
Also, if you’re interested in seeing some snippets from Crack the Sky click HERE!

Emarosa – “Breather”

He Is Legend – “Mean Shadows”

Artifex Pereo – “The Lantern & the Firefly”

Three Days Grace – “Overrated”

Thrice – “Moving Mountains”

Red – “Watch You Crawl”

Tides of Man – “Chemical Fires”

Prom Kings – “Angels”

Sharon Van Etten – “Love More”

Florence + the Machine – “Seven Devils”

Since I will most likely listen to nothing but Christmas music in December and plan to do the 25 Days of Christmas Music posts like I did last year, this will be the last On Repeat post of the year. At the end of December though, keep an eye out for my 2011 in Review posts, of which there will be more than one music themed one this year!
Peace – Sarah


Sneak Peek: Crack the Sky

When NanoWrimo began I told myself that at the end of it I’d share a snippet or two from whatever I wrote during the month. Being brave enough to do this is very difficult for me, but I rarely go back on my word (even if it’s only to myself). With that being said, I have two snippets for you from my current work-in-progress, Crack the Sky.
So you’re not completely confused you should know that Crack the Sky is about a guardian angel being stolen from heaven by demons so she can’t protect her angel-demon subject. The story is told from a 17 year old boy’s point of view. The first snippet is the beginning of Chapter 1 and the second snippet is all of Chapter 8.
Questions and comments are welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

I shoot upright in the bed, heaving for air. Thunder so violent it rattles through the house, through my bones, has awakened me. I jerk the sheets away from my legs and hurry out of the room. As I exit the front door lightning cracks the sky like heaven is being ripped open (if heaven even exists) and I sprint.
Sweat drips from my brow as I plunge through the woods. Crimson leaves crunch under my footfall, black stalking trees just a blur in the corner of my eye as I blow past them. I don’t know where I’m even going, but I can’t stop my feet from moving, from pushing me forward.
Thunder and lightning crack the sky again, more aggressive than a moment ago and I shudder, but I do not stop running. I feel something pulling me, the center of my being driving me towards an unknown purpose. And then, deep into the forest, I skid to a stop, my feet sliding against the damp, slick leaves.
There, at the base of tree, lies a girl wrapped in dirtied white cloth. Her back is to me, her shoulder blades bare. The ground soaks up blood as it seeps from her back. She’s so pale, stark white against the red leaking from her and the decaying forest around us. Her body looks slack, like a dead girl.
Slowly, I tiptoe towards her, nervous as if she might suddenly rise from her dead state. Thick blonde hair drapes across her face. I crouch down and lightly brush it aside to check for a pulse. Despite her dead-like demeanor, she’s beautiful—pure and innocent, looking misplaced in this dark and scary forest. Barely a thud thumps beneath my fingers at her throat and I feel more relieved that she’s alive than I thought I’d feel. I didn’t want this stranger to be dead?

Chapter 8

At the mall Leilani’s eyes sparkle with wonder even more than they did at my house. Everything is new to her. Everything. It’s an awesome thing to witness. The way she touches textures, the way she examines the dumbest things. It’s all so entertaining to me.
Despite the secret pleasure I find in being present for this, I still poke fun at this supposed naïveté from her. She’s fondling a crucifix necklace, looking completely perplexed when I ask, “What? You don’t recognize your own savior?”
Her eyes shoot daggers at me and I can’t help but laugh at her once again. She answers my arrogance with, “Well Jesus did die on the cross in this way, but he looks nothing like the man on this cross.”
“Oh, is that so?” I chuckle. “Tell that to the overzealous Christians. I’m sure they’d love to argue that one with you.”
She releases the cross and watches it swing to a stop. Her obvious disappointment with my flippant attitude is starting to make me feel guilty and I never feel guilty for anything. I change my tactics. I brought her here for the reward of spoiling her. Spoiling doesn’t involve rude rhetoric. Or at least it shouldn’t (though my father would know nothing of that).
I pull her towards a coat rack full of puffy snow coats that make people look like colored marshmallows. She brushes her hand against one, but doesn’t seem to be satisfied with its sleek exterior. She disregards the rest of the coats on the rack entirely and drifts to one offering a variety of peacoats. I assume she’s appalled by anything in darker shades because her fingers always reach for ones in white or ivory automatically.
Her eyes hold a fondness for the one she’s examining now. It’s a hooded wool peacoat in white, with a fur inlay and silver buckles. She touches it slowly, gently, as if it’s something special and deserves respect. It’s just a darn coat. I wonder if maybe she needs to understand that, that it’s just an object to be worn when it’s cold outside. I start to explain it to her when suddenly she yanks off my borrowed coat, letting it fall to the floor, and frees the white peacoat from its hanger.
She slips into the coat in one swift movement, immediately raising its hood to cover her head. Her eyes close and she holds the coat closed around her with a peaceful expression on her face. The one she’s chosen fits her perfectly, hugging her curves the way it’s designed to do.
 “Is that the one you want?” I ask, completely enthralled by the appreciation she holds for such a simple thing.
Without opening her eyes she reaches for my hand and presses my palm inside the coat to feel the fur. Our faces are close and she whispers now, a smile still scrawled across her lips. “This is what my wings feel like.”
For just a moment I close my eyes too and let myself imagine them, imagine her story about being an angel holding truth. I see wings, so large they could fold around her and hide her entire tiny form. I feel feathers soft as velvet, warm and full of this fresh air scent. It intoxicates me, the beauty of it all.
I’m smiling, lost in this vision, when I’m abruptly pulled free by the sound of Mackenzie’s voice. “Tilian?” she sneers.
My hand falls from Leilani’s coat and the happy clarity I just felt dissipates as my eyes come open. I turn towards a clearly pissed off Mackenzie, sucking on a red lollipop in a wholly seductive and inappropriate manner.
She just stares at me for a minute trying to process what she’s witnessing, what this looks like: Me at the mall, after skipping school, with another girl buying her nice things. Mackenzie’s eyes flare like fire, but before she can completely make a scene I try to soften her blow flirtatiously. “Oh, hey, Kenz.”
It doesn’t work.


Tingling Fingers, Writing, & Music

So folks, everyone’s telling me that I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. This is the explanation for the numbness in my right hand (that is still present btw). And so I’ve been wearing this lovely brace to regain some feeling in my fingers. ::rolls eyes:: Whether the brace is on or not it’s hard to use my last three fingers. I can’t even tell if my pinky is hitting keys right now. If said tingling continues to torture me, surgery will take place. My father had it done, he said it’s not bad and you can’t even tell where they cut him. But the downfall is an 8 week recovery which I’m sure writing will be nearly impossible during that time. I will prolong this procedure as long as possible because of this. I can’t imagine going that long without writing.

Hand pain aside, I’ve been writing regardless. Not in huge bursts, just under 1,000 words a day, but at least I’m writing more consistently this week than the last and it’s because of the new tunes edgyauthor turned me on to. The following three tracks are really standing out to me right now, although just picking one song from each group was difficult because there are so many other amazing tracks too.

Flyleaf – “Red Sam”

Skillet – “Never Surrender”

The Afters – “Tonight”

Also, in writing news… Remember me mentioning in this post that I finally wrapped up the four chapters I was writing at the same time? Well I sat them aside for a few days and finally just re-read them today. One of the chapters was so emotionally overwhelming for Teagan that my eyes actually glossed over even though I’m the one who wrote it. I hope that’s a good sign?

Here’s a very *tiny* snippet (keep in mind this has not been edited whatsoever): Teagan’s POV


My eyes stared into hers in disbelief and I felt my nose start to clog with the tears I was desperately trying to hold back, “You knew my parents?”

Brynn, Levi, and Evie looked confused by my reaction. Bryce took my hand in his under the table and squeezed it. He stared at me with concern written all over his face. After everything he’d learned about me and my life today, he knew how finding out something like this was going to affect me.

Levi finished chewing what was in his mouth and asked, “They were your parents?”

Tears pooled in my eyes and I dropped my gaze to my plate again, incapable of looking at any of them. I couldn’t cry in front of his entire family, I had to find the strength within myself to settle down, but it wasn’t easy. Bryce continued to hold my hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. He answered for me with a nod and a face that told his family to drop it.

Brynn quickly changed the topic, with a fake upbeat tone to her voice I was grateful for so I could get myself together without everyone’s eyes on me. While she rambled on about some art project she wanted her fathers help with Bryce leaned into me and whispered against my ear, “Are you okay?”

I swallowed my pain and released his hand with a nod, returning to my meal while a million questions raced through my head. What were the chances that his parents knew my parents? That the three of us were all born on the same day? It just couldn’t be. It didn’t seem possible. But the question that lingered in my mind most of all escaped my mouth interrupting the conversation in play, “What were they like?”


Alright, well time to play a little catch up online. Kind of ignored the internet for the last two days and as usual I’m feeling guilty for it. And OMG, did I actually manage to make it through an entire post without mentioning Sherrilyn Kenyon or her Dark-Hunters? Well I guess I kind of just did, but I’m trying not to bore you all any more with my obsession (key word trying, doesn’t mean I’ll be completely successful).

Peace – Sarah


P.S. Earlier this week several of my LJ friends made posts in regards to a book entitled, SPEAK, by Laurie Halse Anderson (who is also the author of WINTERGIRLS). I have not read either of these books; however they are both in my wish list. Still, I understand they both feature very serious issues (rape and eating disorders) and have helped a great many who have faced said issues deal with them.

Apparently some man who I won’t even bother linking to (because I don’t believe he even deserves any more recognition for his arrogance) is pushing for a ban on SPEAK (10 years after it’s publication) on the basis that it should be considered soft porn. I’m a strong advocated against porn, but even without reading this book I think a comparison like this is just absurd. By no means could such a thing ever be similar. As a confession, rape is probably one of my biggest fears. If something like that should ever happen to me I know it would destroy me. There would be no “pleasure” in such an act, nor would reading about it.

Anyway, since I haven’t read the book I probably shouldn’t comment further as an uneducated opinion, but it bothered me greatly to hear the news from so many of my friends who have read it. If you’d like to see their educated opinions they can be read in any of the following posts:

Alice Speaks
Heather Speaks
Shelby Speaks
Carrie Speaks
Kim Speaks