A draft

The Postal Service - Nothing Better (Styrofoam Remix)

Today I came across a draft of Part Three. I had run out of pages in my chemistry notebook and was looking through some empty workbooks which were not empty after all. It's been so long since I wrote in an actual book, before typing became my norm. I read it over and decided it was not so bad. It's evocative in its own way. Here is the draft in all its roughness, pieces that came together in different ways for the story.

They brought her in about suppertime, but something was not right. Piotr ran to the door, but Remy had kicked it open with the heel of his boot.
And in his arms, Kitty Pryde dangled.
"Fainted," Remy briefly explained. Piotr would have offered his bed if Remy had not been way ahead of him. Piotr hung back, unsure of what to do.
Tabby's voice cracked though the silence like a chisel. "I knew this would happen. I told that girl to eat--she hasn't eaten well for months--I knew she was sick."

And at that moment, her eyes struggled to open, her head turned to face his.
"Lance?" Piotr took a moment to realize her confusion and decided not to take it personally.
"Kitty, it's me. It's Piotr."
"Piotr." She rolled her it strangely, as if tasting wine. "Oh, it's you. I remember you. I haven't seen you in awhile." Her voice was weak, strained almost. But she seemed glad, happy even, to see him. "I was wondering what happened to you."
...
There was another time, when Piotr had fixed lunch that she told him about men. She didn't trust them any, and that the last patron set himself on fire.
She fit into his arms very neatly. They glided and danced, her hand in his, the other at her waist, in perfect time.
She told him, over raisins, that she never felt so good in ages. And he showed her the print in the paper.
"I want you to eat. So you can go home. This place is keeping you sick. You got to go home." She stared at her own picture for awhile. "They want you back." He wanted her to live.

In your arms, I was more than a miner.
...
She laid her head on his shoulder. "You're different from them, Piotr." Her voice hummed. "You're so different, we're almost the same."

Inspiration: Novel

Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich

*Note: Contrary to what the picture indicates, clicking to look inside will not take you there after all. I believe you'd have to go through Amazon to do that.

My, this book has been on my reading list for years. And to think, I did not like it at first. I was begrudged to buy it ($14 was a scandalous sum for a book) for the freshman reading list for Honors English I in high school. High school. They had us reading textbooks and suddenly we were reading Jane Eyre and this novel, though it's funny, I actually liked Jane Eyre. This book, this book however revolted me. Its themes surround Native American Indians, and that was interesting, but I found the people in it immoral. A prostitute, a drunkard, a cheating husband, several suicides. Fourteen-year-olds do not have that sort of depth, I should like to think. But the more I trudged through advanced placement English (don't think I'm gussying myself up--English was my worst subject aside from gym), the more I found literature wanted to rob us of innocence. I personally think that contributes to emo teenagers, among other things.

So fast forward a few years during a spring cleaning raid, when I found this book in the back of my shelves, aging nicely in its paperbacking because nobody had really touched it. What a waste, I was thinking, taking it out, reading a few lines. And from there I was hooked. Erdrich writes with a sort of nostalgic, melancholy cadence, rounding her characters out nicely. Beyond the endless metaphors, it is a well-written piece that provokes, repels, and laments its central families' tragedies. But its purpose, I think, is quite hopeful. Her characters are relatable because their mistakes are very human.

John and Wanda's fight was inspired by this book. The first-person accounts of Todd and Lance also take root from her storytelling. So yes, I keep it handy when I'm caught in a writing funk, its prose rampant with love, lust, hatred, forgiveness, and death. Which is kind-of the Legend story too, come to think of it.

Idaho and Back...


My friend from college was throwing a shindig up in Sandpoint, ID, and a few of my friends and I braved bumpy airplane rides and long car drives to make it. Now, you might be wondering what the Northwest is doing in this mainly Eastern tale, and I don't know what to tell you except that I was more than blown away with what I was seeing. This is what America is, people. And I couldn't resist taking a few pictures to prove it.
We stayed in Schweitzer Mountain Resort, a faux-cabin that thrives on its snowy mountains perfect for skiing and sledding. But we arrived in its off-season, lush and snow-free, brimming with tall, skinny trees covering every mountain completely. Here's a picture of that view, hiking up a horse trail.

Yes, this was taken on top of a horse, which was not so very comfortable or easy while holding unto the reins for dear life.

As a city girl, I had hoped I would get this horse for its colors. They called it Moon. And I was so excited to climb on top, but Moon had a mind of his own. He was not pushy--trained to follow the horse in front--not aggressive at all. The other thing was he liked to trot fast and that hurt a lot. I am still sore, and it's been two days.

My friends in their L.A. tube tops. An afternoon with these horses proved why we belonged in the city.

This was taken in the Mojo Cafe on the main lot. Apparently, Northern Idaho is not known for potatoes as they are with huckleberries. Add some rum, and you're good to go!

The bride had vases of all shapes and sizes as give aways. I immediately thought of Jubilation's apothecary jars.

Lake Ponderay

I wish you could have seen these forests in all their glory. So thick and lush, worthy of hiding the likes of Belladonna in them.

Taken from the plane on the way back to Boise. And one with just the right angle, the sunlight slit through the clouds...

Some nature inspiration to spurn more imagination for this story...now that I'm back, I'll be writing again soon! Stay tuned!

Reading Bits

It took almost two days to finish McEwan's Atonement, and I am more than motivated to write the next part of my story. It was a very hard book to read; with not knowing the plot, the relentless imagery that made me mad with skimming--it's written very much like a Jane Eyre, but much more defiant, provocative. I was blisteringly angry with Briony and her injustice towards the lovers, but, as my sister reminded me, it is her story, so I read on patiently.
It does not end well, and that is the only spoiler I will allow myself to reveal. It is a good read, though, and really pits wartime nursing in a brighter, more inspiring light for me. Not like Scarlet, from Gone with the Wind, who wanted to get the hell out of there and abandons her duty, but Briony and her unnerving perseverance with her patients--that even writing seemed childish compared to feeling such awestruck love for these strangers and wanting nothing but to help them.
But the ending was outrageous and I felt jipped in many ways. Therefore, I plan to write in that design, but to a more acceptable ending (at least in my terms). I always love a good love story.

The Day of the Cowboy and Cowgirl

Wish you were here.

This was the event I wanted to attend so so so badly since I saw it advertised on Goldstar. And two days before the actual event, I got my friend S. to come along and it was soooo much fun, as fun as a girl who's writing about the West can be. If you're ever in Los Angeles and can't get cowboys out of your head, the Autry National Center is the place to visit. Tucked in the hills of Griffith Park and right across the street from the Los Angeles Zoo (which, I tell you now, is sort of sad and I don't recommend it), the Autry leads your through the last century from Moving West to Movie Cowboys.

Taken inside the Autry's giftshop. Get it?
I didn't even know there was a Day of the Cowboy (though there's a National Day for Ice Cream, but everyone loves ice cream and therefore should take note). Although there were many kids, it wasn't like Disneyland where everywhere you step could be on a child or multiple parents plowing strollers into your way (which should be a safety/fire hazard). There was a gunslinger, panning for gold (flecks, I should add), cowboy street market (indoors AND air conditioned), blacksmiths and chuck wagons, and of course, the museum itself. So, it was like a Western writer's happy place on so many levels.S. panning for gold. She was so excited to do it too.Vaqueros doing their fancy roping.

I didn't mind that my story only takes place partially in the West, or that many of the exhibits I couldn't use being that they consisted of Indian heritage (though, I'm sure, if you wanted to research weaving baskets, they have a whole section you could study).
That being said, it was hot and wonderful, and I took a lot of pictures with strangers who had dressed up for the occasion, reveling in a past that's too much of our history to forget.

The Sheriff's Posse on horses. The only bummer of the day was that there was no horseback riding, though I specifically read there would be. No biggie.

Leather Crafting. Two seats and a thousand people in line? Not good planning.

Carriage, circa 1850s.How to Cheat with Cards. A Remy must. Backside of the bar. Not very pretty. Yes we did eat beef bbq sandwiches and enjoyed them too.
Hope this little bit keeps you inspired! Maybe I'll see you next year...?


I'm feeling chipper.

First Post Ever.

Postcard by Rar Rar Press, Chicago, IL

I've been meaning to do this for awhile, coming clean with inspiration for writing my latest X-Men: Evoluation fiction, Back in the Day: The Legend of Logan's Kin. It's been a pet project of mine to start a blog, so forgive me if this is plain and simple. I plan to expand this blog of an afterthought into something special. It is, after all, a confession of my interests through my work, a celebration of the American homeland, and an expression of how the perfect alternate universe can remake the X-Men (hopefully).

For now, I've got this fancy postcard that I've marked for just the occasion. With all good beginnings, there should be pictures. A map, I figure, will do just fine this time around; for Caldecott, Mississippi is where this all starts, and Bayville, Massachusetts is where we must end. But the real story is what's in between. So is it really that far? In 1877, riding railroads, horses, and carriages, I can imagine it sure was.


I am feeling accomplished.