Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Back to the beginning

I'm home. Finally. And will continue being home for the next couple of weeks. For those who don't know what that means, let me give you folks some history (I'm not sure I've ever done that before). Anyway, just so you know, this is going to be a history post.

As most of you know or don't, I'm currently 23. I'm just getting used to this ripe old age, but it's started to grow on me. I'm from a small mountain town called Campulung (some of the people who read Hunters might recall it as the place where the Banshee dwelt and where the Mausoleum was - the place of the epic showdown between vampires and Hunters). But this small town has no colleges in it, so off went the young student to Bucharest, to the best Law School in the country. In the meantime, said youngster finished said college. But I still live in Bucharest where I've recently managed to scrape a job (barely) and where I still study my master's course.
Puffeh Kitteh under the desk

But Campulung is still home sweet home - the place where I eat and sleep and where my parents are. And, of course, where my cats are.

So, I'm glad to be home. As usual, I dwell in my teddy bear wallpapered room (I'm serious about that) where all my childhood memories are. And there's a lot of old stuff just lying around.

Like this. In a previous post, I mentioned writing my hands off in grade school during my classes and mentioned notebooks. Well, these are five of them. About three, if not more, are missing, but I'm too lazy to search for them - probably because the writing is atrocious. Notice that two of them have no covers - that's because I carried these things in my backpack each and every day. And they wore out and fell off. the second one, I actually stapled back, but then it fell again together with the first page.
Notice the title page in full color and filled with drawings of a deluded 12-year-old (though I think I might have been 13 when I started that volume - as I see it, it's the second volume of the second book, so I think I might have spent a couple of years on the first one).

Anyway, the thing is - writing was a lot less complicate then. POV rules? Speech tags? Punctuation? Ha! Those were the last of my worries seeing as I couldn't spell. But I got the story out, built an entire background for my characters, didn't have to worry about description or anything actually making sense... I had fun.

At this point in my life, I don't think I ever imagine I could be published. Not that I am, or anything (well, not yet at least), but I've started taking my writing really seriously when I started college - actually, late after that - in 2009, when I was already in my third year of college. That's when I became active on CC and actually learned how to write (I'd learned how to spell in the meantime)

And now, here I am, with queries under way, with another novel in the editing process, with knowledge (though little) of the industry and how everything works. What can I do? Plow on, I say :) Maybe next year will be better. Maybe I'll get a break and have my novel published. Maybe I'll write something else. Life goes on and I'm not going to give up on writing, ever. That's the one thing I know for sure.

And, just for fun, here's a little excerpt out of one of those notebooks (with proper spelling). Just remember I was young and rather stupid. :p

All of a sudden, the door opened and Ryan stepped out, looking a bit wired. I looked at him without saying a word, waiting for him to speak.
"Listen, I've been really stupid," he finally said after a few seconds of silence. "I mean, we were never together or anything, so why should I be upset?" He was talking faster and faster. "So, I'm sorry. Can we be friends?"
I looked at him dumbstruck, not understanding what he kept blabbing about. But one thing I did understand - the fact that he was sorry.
"Okay, sure. I wanted to come and talk to you anyway," I said cautiously.
"You did?" Ryan asked in his normal voice.
"Yes, I just didn't have the guts to do it."
"It doesn't matter. I'm glad we're friends again."
"Yeah, me too..."
An awkward silence fell between us. It didn't feel as if we were friends. Ryan, however, dropped on the couch and pulled me next to him, after which he started talking again.
"I've been pretty lonely this last week. Honestly, I've missed you around. And I've been dying to tell you the news."
"Fire away," I said, feeling that he really meant it. It felt like everything was going to go back to the way we were before the fight.
"I'm so happy! I'm in love! For the first time in my life, I'm truly in love," he said, getting off the couch and waltzing around.
"With who?" I asked, feeling as if he'd dropped a rather large amount of dictionaries on my defenseless head.
"You don't know her, but I'll introduce you to her if you want," Ryan answered with his back to me.
"Sure, anytime..." I said weakly, this time feeling as if he had thrown a hatchet through my chest and sliced me open.
I have to admit that even if I knew that I was in love with someone else (namely Chris), I felt very offended and hurt because I really liked Ryan, and not just as a friend, but as Chris' only possible substitute. I decided that it was better to play supportive friend for him.
So I did. I met Ryan's love who was a beautiful blond girl who was everything I wasn't: calm, neat, attentive and talked very little. And she seemed to adore Ryan.
I gave up on him, listening to him every time he wanted to talk, but not telling him anything about myself in return. What hurt most was that he didn't seem to notice.
So, basically, next day, I was once again knocking on Sam's door to mourn on his shoulder.

Oh, noes! All the teenage drama (and the adverbs piling up, ready to smother every bit of available text). You know what's fun? I didn't have a real boyfriend when I wrote all this - so I made one up :) The story continued with much drama regarding many characters and, somehow, the narrator (as in me) was always in the middle, or around to spy on people.
I had scenes that placed the first person narrator nowhere near. Like 'Meanwhile, at the Legion of Doom' kind of stuff.
But it was fun. This is where I actually learned to spell in the end. And how I began my journey to where I am now. I hope I'll get much further. I need it.

I hope you guys had fun with this.


  1. It's fun (and sometimes cringe-making) to look back over your early writing, isn't it? I liked your snippet. It was sweet :). And the analogies (like the dictionaries) made me laugh. The cat under the desk looks adorable!

  2. That was fun! I like looking at my writing from long ago. I have lots of teenage angsty stories hidden away in notebooks, too! I need to dig those out...

  3. I don't dare look back on my beginning writing, because I don't have the excuse of being only young when I wrote it. I started writing at the tender age of 44, so whatever drivel I came up with, I should have known better ;)

    Thanks for the history lesson!

  4. Shoot I thought that was good--I think that's about where I'm at now in terms of quality :)

    I'm glad you're back home for Christmas. I used to love that feeling. Now that my mom's gone, it doesnt happen anymore. So don't take this time for granted. Enjoy every minute!


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