It's About a Mutt...

Oh boy. I don't know if I can do this.

There's a book.

It's about stuff.

No, really. I have another book that I've been working on since last NaNo (that would be 2010 NaNo. I didn't participate in this year's NaNo. yes, I realize it's 2012, but it makes sense in my head).

It's about...

Yeah, I think I'll stall a bit longer on that one.

I really wanted to write about something different. The first book I really committed myself to, well, the second book, since we don't talk about the first one, was Pack Cords. Teenage werewolf angst. Yeah, try saying that five times fast. Unless you're Hawkie. I've been told not to ask her to say anything five times fast. Anyway, it was about werewolves, which are by far way cooler than vampires. I mean, come on. They're cuddly. When they're not ripping your head off, of course. Especially Kaleb. He's my buddy. And he's big and black, which automatically makes him awesome. Why? Because big black dogs are awesome. It's just a fact. And big black wolves are even more awesome because they're wolves.

I am now realizing that there are people out there that probably have no clue what Pack Cords is. Hold on a moment, let me pull up a link...

http://thewolfdog.blogspot.com/2010/03/so-im-writing-this-book.html

Please excuse the fact that this is an old post and I'm still mildly insane. At least now I'm fully insane.

Well, I still really like Pack Cords and I still find myself daydreaming about the deep woods of northern Michigan with Ginger and Kaleb, I haven't really written anything noteworthy in it. I sort of thought to myself, "so, I'm writing a book. about werewolves." *looks briefly at the YA fiction shelf at the bookstore.* *sees vampires, werewolves, and angels.* "okay, let's think of something that's actually creative."

And I thought of something.

Oh no. It's really out there. What do I do?

It actually came from a dream that I had a while back, and since I'm THAT insane, I turned this weird thing into a book. Or at least the idea for a book. Or at least a whisper of an idea. More than a plot bunny anyway.

And it's not that I hate werewolves now. I do really love them. And yes, I am taking my own twist on werewolves and giving them my own set of rules regarding shifting, and they even have legitimate packs (no, I don't mean a bunch of shirtless teenage boys running around Seattle) (whoops, sorry, shirtless boys and a girl). It's just that I didn't really feel like taking a popular idea, twisting it, and turning it into my own interpretation of werewolves. Because, how bad can that be, right?

Yeah. My point exactly. Well, not really. That probably looks a bit more like Stephanie Meyer's werewolves than mine. Maybe not. But you get the point. 

It was really more than that, though. after Scorpio Races came out (read it!) I realized, hey, wait a minute. there aren't any werewolves or vampires. there isn't a love triangle. It's not post-apocalyptic. No one is actually trying to kill each other. Although they try to kill themselves, but I'd probably ride a water horse if given the chance too. So what this means is you can write a book that isn't necessarily what people want, and it can still be mildly famous? Cool. 

So then I wrote my book.

Actually, I haven't written it yet. I wrote a prologue. I seem to be good at prologues. Not so much the actual story though.  

I think I've rambled long enough now. I think I've built up the courage to say what it's about. 

And maybe I'm just freaking out for no good reason. It just seems like people that can actually make mone yon this whole writing thing don't get as many weird looks when they say what their story is about. for me it's more like, "okay. You're writing about what? Oh, okay... *coughweirdonerdcough*".

Well, I'm not worried anymore. You'll find out someday, right? 

so my book, which I have in a plot bunny manner recently (as in, about half an hour ago) deemed "Mutt", is about fire spirits.

What?

Yeah.

It more than that. there are tree spirits and water spirits as well, but it mainly focuses on fire spirits. However, fire spirits aren't like tree/water spirits. Tree spirits have their own tree, and if their tree dies, they die. The same goes for water spirits, I think, although it's a bit hard to kill off a river. They just get angry instead. Like in Narnia when they build a bridge over the river. He (the spirit) got very angry and ate the guy who was in charge (I can't think of his name right now. It's Spanish. He didn't like Caspian.) 

fire spirits, on the other hand, make fire exist. Kill all or many of the fire spirits, and there's no fire. Which puts us humans in some trouble.  There's a bit more to it, but I would be spoiling the story, and I wouldn't want to do that, now would I?

Evelyn is a mutt. What that means, you may find out someday. 

Opal and Aden travel around causing trouble for the king. They were kicked out of the city that they lived in. 

The "king", James Fletcher, is a usurper who staged some sort of coup a while back and now rules. He's not nice. He also specifically hates Evelyn because she is a mutt. Again, you'll have to wait on that one. 

Evelyn, Opal and Aden meet, and she goes with them to the city they were banished to. They do this because they need help from Kir. 

Kir is a mysterious man that Evelyn meets. He's very important to her. 

This is all the information I will divulge, and I may on a later date post my prologue. 

I think I'm going to write now. And a blessed Good Friday to all of you.

In the Dark of the Night...

It comes in the dark of the night. It comes during the innocent afternoons. In the morning, in the evening, it comes.

It comes to those who don't expect it. gorging on the minds of the helpless, the innocent, it comes.

It may come while you are sitting there, checking Facebook. It may come while you happily enjoy the summer afternoon, or the nostalgia of writing longhand on a brookside.

It comes in the night, seeping into your dreams and taking over your senses. It tears apart your mind, leaving it empty, confused, and useless.

It stabs your muse in the back, leaving it lying there to die. Only if you are smart enough can you save the helpless muse.

It is the Plot Bunny.

The Plot Bunny preys on the helpless new writers, even on the old, weary writers. It hits your muse with an Imperio spell and tells it to tell you, "write me. Only me."

They used to think it only came once a year, in November, when everyone was sleep-deprived and loaded when caffeine. It used to prey on NaNo induced weakness.

But no more. It has grown strength, and soon it will find its way into your MIND.

But people have found ways to avoid it. They have trained themselves to recognize the signs of a Plot Bunny.

However, some have not.

Some innocent people, like Stephanie Meyer, think that it's a good idea to write about their sparkly boyfriend dreams.

But they were wrong.

Help raise Plot Bunny awareness! Fight for the cause! And someday, we may vanquish this fell beast!

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

Hey, guys. What's up?

Well, it's November 25th. I just realized that. I thought it was the 26th. Oh well.

So, yesterday was a good day. We had biscuits and gravy for breakfast, appetizers in the afternoon, and pretty much spent the day doing nothing. Which for me meant three hours of reading Inheritance. To quote my friend, "crazy stuff, man".

I really don't like the day after holidays. Last year (or maybe two years ago), the day after Christmas was a Wednesday. And, for my family, that meant Culver's for lunch and Walmart afterwards. I really like doing this weekly, and though it can be boring sometimes, I do miss it since I've been going to "real" school. Yeah, I go to school now. It's "crazy stuff, man". Not really. I love school. But back to the point.

So I was sitting there eating my food (om nom nom) and looked around, as I usually do. i really don't mean to offend people, but I tend to watch and listen to conversations. I usually comment to myself (oh, that's a nice coat) (that looks like a country person) and I tend to laugh at their conversations. I think it's because I like paying attention to everything. I guess it's how I learn.

So anyway, I'm watching and looking, and it's weird how no one cares. It's the day after Christmas, and the quirky fake wrapped presents and Christmas tree display in the corner seems to no longer have any meaning. Yeah, they look nice, but it's not Christmas anymore. Get with the times, people. It just seems strange that the day before, all these people were sitting around a tree or maybe a fireplace, loving each other and thanking or even laughing at the gifts they received (my brother and I have in the past couple years gotten each other funny gifts. One year I got all three of them titanium sporks. that's right. Bask in the awesome). But now today they've moved on with their lives. Whatever, Christmas is over, let's get to New Year's.

So that's why I'm really annoyed that Black Friday has migrated it's way to Thursday. Thursday is for Thanksgiving. it's for turkey, stuffing, stuffing with turkey, and family. And Charlie Brown (yay!) and here's a weird idea. THANKS! Not, "Oh my gosh, sales! I have to go camp out for consumerism! yay!". and really, is your son really going to be happy with a Nerf gun that you got for half price? I mean, is he really going to be happy? Maybe. At least until it breaks, or until he loses the bullets.

maybe you should get him a new toy for his dog. Or maybe get him something important to him. I mean, really important.

That's something I'd like for Christmas. The time and energy to play with my dog. Or get on my horse and ride. that would be great.

So anyway, I hope y'all (I'm in Indiana, by the way. It's so far south) are spending your day after Thanksgiving soaking up that last little bit of time with your family. And eating leftover turkey sandwiches. I recommend turkey with mayo and potato chips. Yummmm...

Oh look, it's lunch time. Bye, guys! Happy Day After Thanksgiving!

It's An Oxymoron

So since I forgot this in the last post, which kind of didn't work (I wasn't feeling the best the last two days) the reason why I renamed this blog Wolfdog is because...

Well, it's mildly embarrassing. Not really. I dunno.

It's sort of poetic and meaningful. If I'm going to change my bog name and style, I'm going to put deep thought into the name, right? Well, as you probably know already, a wolfdog is a mixture of a dog and a wolf. simple, yes? Sort of. (just to warn you, I'm a dog nerd, so this could take a while)

Dogs do come from wolves, but obviously a chihuahua has very little if NO resemblance to a wolf. Of course, wolf hounds, German Shepherds, and Huskies have closer resemblance, but they're still different. Why?

Domestication. Wolves are wild. Dogs aren't. They're ancestors haven't been roaming the wild for a long time. Wolves, on the other hand, Are wild, were wild, and will be wild. That doesn't mean that you can't take a wild wolf and make it tame, but it will still be wild. It'll take a couple of generations to make it domestic.

See? I told you I'm a nerd. Wolfdog makes perfect sense now.

So, wolfdog is a bit of an oxymoron. It's like saying domestic wild, or tamed wilderness.

What does this have to do with me? I'm a mixture. I'm a farm girl, but I'm a writer. I'm and adventurer, but I'm an artist. I'm athletic, but I'm smart. Not that athletes are automatically stupid, but it's an old stereotype. Don't worry, my fellow athletes, you're smart.

So that's me. Beating the snot out of stereotypes and building a million oxymorons. And there you have it. Wolfdog. Mutt, oxymoron, contradiction, and so on.

The end.

Welcome To Wolfdog!!!

It's new! It's here! It's shiny! Well, not really, but the screen kind of is. That's right, I distracted you!

It's... Wolfdog!!!

Welcome to my not really new but sort of new blog. Right now the sidebar is bare, but I'll make it look nicer later. I'm going to work on actually posting daily, every other day, or something like that first. After all, isn't it about the valuable content?

My inner creative writer is dead right now, so this post is as well. Anyway, a better post will come soon. Probably about school. that's right, school. Eep.

The New Blog

Well, I've decided.

I have been informed that my blog's address can be changed, and since the name of the blog is what I really have trouble with, I figure it's not nice to just delete all of my old blog posts. They do bring a lot of fond memories, after all. And they're so well written (cough cough).


So, my new blog, which is just really my blog, will be found here as of Monday. Or earlier. I'm not sure.

www.thewolfdog.blogspot.com

I think. It may be something different, as that one may not be available. But it should be.

I'd Like Some Input, Please

This... blog. I think I can call it that. Well, anyway, it's very, shall we say, strange. I've been reading through my older (and by older I mean 2008) posts and I've noticed I have a very. . . unique style. It seems to involve a lot of exclamation points, caps, and parentheses. I know what you're thinking. I just used parentheses. I also know what I'm thinking. I hate the phrase "I know what you're thinking". It bothers me.

So along with this revelation that my blog looks like a thirteen year old wrote it, I'm thinking about...

Deleting it.

That's right. Deleting it.

All it is is three years of silly ranting about nothing with countless references to Eragon. That, and Shiver in recent history. Not to mention, I don't really like my blog's title anymore. For one thing, I didn't look up the word Shurt'ugal (Eragon speak for Rider) and misspelled it on my web address. I've regretted it since then. Fortunately, I changed it to the right spelling on the header, but that almost doesn't matter. It's as if it's still lingering above me, right there in a bar-like thingy. Oh, wait, it is. It's. . . The web address bar!!! Oh no!!!

For another, it seems almost. . . obsessive. Now, given I'm absolutely IN LOVE with the Inheritance trilogy, cycle, thing, although it's gotten a bit old. However, it seems almost creepy. I'm like the head of the fan club, the girl who knows everything there is to know about that famous person. I know where he lives. I know where he eats. I know where he brushes his teeth.

That's not true. I don't even know where Christopher Paolini lives, eats, or practices dental hygiene. at least, I hope he practices dental hygiene. Ew. . .

Also, it just seems. . . I don't know. It seems like I was a different person when I started it. I thought it was a cool name, but looking back I should've only named it that if I was going to keep track of all things inheritance, bringing us back to the crazed fangirl thing. Not that I'm not a crazed fangirl anymore, I'm just a more mature one. *cough*.

I'd also sort of like to take all those caps I've spewed out off the internet. I mean, do we need more of that? don't we already have Facebook?

So, input would be nice. Does the name suggest some silly fangirl's blog? Does it seem creative? Is it stupid? How about content?

Thanks, three people that will read this :D