Fear

Fear. Writers try to ensnare it in words all the time. It's our job to try to find those words that will make readers' hearts race, their palms sweat, and their hairs stick up on the back of their necks. An entire genre was created for those who couldn't get enough of the heeby jeebies, and even if you don't read horror, every writer uses the tool of fear at some point or another because every character has fears, desires, goals, and the like.

I thought I knew fear. I've experienced some terrifying things before. When I was six, I fell into the adult deep end of a very large hotel swimming pool. I was terrified that I was going to die, and if one of my family hadn't seen me fall in and dove in to get me, I may have.

When I was 12 or 13 I was hiking with my dad one day and fell off the trail and off the mountain. The only things that stopped me from rolling and crashing to the bottom was a patch of briars that I bounced into.

A couple of years later, when I was hiking with my step brother on a camping trip, we became surrounded by coyotes.

However, I never really knew fear until a few months ago. I was talking to my girlfriend on the phone. We weren't quite dating yet -- we were in that awkward "basically dating, but still not official" stage, when suddenly she told me that she was watching the news, and some pretty big storms were brewing. I was at college, so I was more concerned with her, but she was more concerned about the ones brewing near me. As I spoke to her, I was slightly concerned, but nothing more than the typical, "Man, I hope the storms don't get too bad."

Well, is the storm progressed, she was placed under a severe storm warning, and then a tornado watch. I became a little more apprehensive, but tried not to let it get to me. My dad died about a year ago from tornadoes, so I have a new found respect for their power. I know what they can do -- I saw his solid oak and stone log house. It was gone except the foundation.

As I continued to talk to her, the "watch" progressed into a "warning." Then, she told the sirens went off. My heart leaped into my chest. She had to go into their shop so that she could be away from windows. She lived in a mobile home...this could end badly.

I had two things come to my mind. I had to talk to her, because she was crying and hysterical and her mom was rocking back and forth in the floor praying and frantic, but I also worried for my family, because my mom and brother were in the same town. However, my mom could console my brother, and my girlfriend had no one, so I talked to her.

Now, I've been terrified, before, but I knew nothing of real terror until this moment. Nothing has ever made my heart stop more suddenly, or my blood run colder than these words: "I can see it."

In those four words, I felt my entire life go away. More than that, I felt my sanity break down. My mind shattered. I stopped breathing, my legs gave out, and the only thing holding me up was the fact that I was leaning against my bed. I was silent, speechless, and in complete and total shock. I finally came back to my senses when my girlfriend said in a fragil, tiny voice, "If you could say something to talk me through this, that would be great, because I'm kinda scared right now."

I was instantly talking. I told her everything would be alright, I told her that nothing was going to happen, she would be fine. I told her all these things, but I didn't believe a word of it. I had an empty feeling in my soul. I could feel a blackness hanging around me, and I felt hopeless as I was witness to everything I loved being torn from me.

After a few minutes of talking, it was over, and my girlfriend got in her mom's car, and her and her mom went to go check on a few things. She heard word from her mom, who was on her cellphone, that the tornado hit the court house, which is just a few blocks from my family's house.

I immediately began calling my family. I couldn't get a hold of anyone. My mom's line was dead, my grandmother's line was dead, and when I tried to call back my girlfriend, I couldn't get through to her either. I was completely and utterly cut off from everyone I loved.

As the minutes dragged on, each second counting off a thousand years, I became convinced that everyone I loved was dead. My stomach twisted into knots, I doubled over, and I cried. I cried with everything I had. As tears streamed down my face, I looked up at the sky and begged God to let everyone be okay.

For 30 minutes, the longest 30 minutes of my life, I called the same 5 numbers over and over again: my mom's cellphone, my house phone, my grandparents house phone, my brother's cellphone, and my girlfriend's cellphone.

Finally, I got a hold of my girlfriend, and while I was relieved, I wasn't consoled. I still hadn't heard from my family.

Just when I was about to go into a full hysteria, with my girlfriend doing her best to console me, I heard my phone beep. My mom's cell. Like a flash, I switched lines, ecstatic to hear from them. Not only were they okay, but there was no damage done to our house. The tornado hit, literally, 2 blocks away, and went in the other direction.

I missed my college classes that day and went home for the weekend early. My town was decimated. Hundreds lost their houses, and a good portion of the town was just gone. It will never be the same again. I could see signs of the damage a couple of miles before I even got there.

The first place I went was to my girlfriend's house. It was then and there that I told her it was ridiculous of us to try to fight it, that I cared about her more than I've cared about anybody in a long time, and that I wanted her to be my girlfriend. Obviously, she accepted.

Next, I went to my grandparents house, because all the roads leading to my house were damaged or covered with debris so badly that no one could get through. I met up with my grandparents, and then found a tiny back road that I used to sneak past the cops and the National Guard and went home, and hugged my mom and my brother, and then we went to go see how my aunt fared the storm, all the while, my girlfriend and I called friends to make sure they were okay.

I'm so glad that everyone I cared about not only is totally okay, but none of them suffered any damage to their homes.I've never really understood fear, but after that night, I know it. I've seen it's face. I almost lost everything I love. I'll never take my family for granted again.

The Three D's: Doubt, Depression, and Disgust**

Okay, I'm going through something right now. I may just be blowing this out of proportion, but I'll just rant here. Maybe I'll feel better.

Today I tried to re-plot my novel. You remember Jivtor, and all the trouble I had with that story, right? Well, I'm still having trouble. Maybe I should just kill the story, I dunno, or leave it and come back to it. Let me explain, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Lately, I haven't really been in the mood to write. Everytime I look at the page, I get up and do something else. I try to run through things to get my novel going. I always have a pretty good start, but not long after that, I just fizzle out. I don't know what to put in the middle. All my plots always fizzle out by then. I've tried a thousand different ideas, and I just don't know what to do. It's not just this story either, I'm just learning it on this one sooner than the others.

On all my other stories that I've ever started, I fizzle out about 30-40 pages in. It never fails. I never know what's going to happen to make the story progress. I've got a whole folder full of ideas that I just can't bring myself to throw away because they've got promise, I just don't know where they're going. The difference between those stories, and my current two isn't much. On the current two that I'm writing, I've tried plotting out what happens instead of just writing by the seat of my pants. Apparently, my butt can't write. So anyway, most of the advice I've ever heard says, "If you're fizzling out in the middle, then you should try plotting it out. It's not like it's set in stone, and you can always change something, but it gives you an idea of where to go." The problem? I can't think of anything to put in the middle, even when I'm plotting it out.

At first I thought this problem might be the genre I write in. Maybe fantasy, as much as I love it, just isn't my thing. Maybe I should write something else. But it doesn't matter what genre I write in, the problem is the same. I can never think of what should happen to the person. Maybe I just don't have a theme that's defined enough? Maybe I don't have my story developed enough? Maybe I should just pack up all my writings, all my papers and research and books on writing, and my computer, dig a big hole in the backyard, dump my stuff in there, cover it in gasoline and watch it burn while dancing naked around the blaze chanting Native American war chants...*sigh*.

And it's not just that anymore. Now I'm terrified that if I try to drop these stories, like I did all the others, maybe I'll run out of ideas. So the situation is: I can't work on the stories I have because I hate all the ideas that I come up with--they're too weak, there's not enough of them, they're not interesting, they're just filler scenes, etc; I'm afraid that if I leave these that I'll never end my streak of starting novels and never finishing them; I'm afraid that I just don't have what it takes to be a writer; I'm afraid that I'll eventually just run out of ideas because I can never finish one and I'll use them all up.

I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Is it normal for writers to go through this sort of thing? Is it normal for them to question giving it up and working as a door-to-door vacuum salesman? Is it normal for a writer to hate every idea they come up with? Is it normal for writers to eventually just think that every idea they have is trash?

*sigh* I'm going to bed.

** -- 2/3/2008 -- I fixed the title. I'm glad that someone searched my archives to find a spelling mistake from almost 7 months ago.

Saying Goodbye and Update on School

One of my best friends is moving to Alaska. I know that as people grow up, friends grow up and move away, but she was supposed to go to a college that was only a few hours away. She was still in driving distance. Alaska is all the way across the country. Her flight was this morning. Still, she's really excited to go, where she'll have a great job and be living with her aunt, so I'm happy for her, but I'll still miss her, and I hope she stays in touch, but even if she doesn't, I'm glad that this happened, and I wish her luck.

Now, onto school. It's school. Is there really anything left to say? I'm up to my eyeballs in work, so I'm writing this quick and then I have to get back to work. Not much to report. I pulled my grade up from a D to a C. (For those of you that don't live in the states, an A is excellent, a B is good, a C is average, a D is poor, and a F is failing.) What does that mean? That if I can keep my good grades up than my credit will transfer, I won't lose my scholarship to my college and I won't have a math in my Freshman year. (Can someone say, "Booyah!"?)

So what's going on in the blogosphere?

Holly Lisle's having troubles, so she'll be offline for a week. If you have the time, send your good wishes to her, she sounds like she needs them.

PBW is still having trouble with blogger. Apparently she can't save any drafts, so most of her entries will be improved until it can be fixed. She's also having a give away of what she's read this week. (She reads more in a week than I have in two months. She's like the bionic woman or something!) So that's worth a look as well.

Jean is having a Summer Bookpack Giveaway.

PJ is waiting on news for her Viable Paradise submission.

Meryl just got a really great job, so head on over to her job and congratulate her.

Well,that's all for now. Back to work. Ugh, math...

Later!

Graduation: The Day After

Well, it's the day after, and I'm still in one piece. My mom--of course--cried during my graduation. It was actually not as magical as I thought it would be. When I arrived, I was with my friend. We went to the changing room and changed into our robes. Actually that was a waste of space--the changing room was useless. All the robes do is go over your regular clothes, so I missed the point of the changing rooms in the first place, but whatever. It's their party, I'm just attending it.
After we changed, we stood around for half an hour asking people where we were supposed to meet for the march. Of course, no one knew. When it finally came time for us to march in, we stood around for another 20 minutes at least. The people at the front started getting really bored, so they kept trying to convince--or bully us in some people's cases--into doing the wave. By this time, I was sick of everyone there and if I NEVER saw them again it would be too soon. Call me short tempered, but when a guy threatens to karate chop you in the throat if you step on the back of his robes, you don't suddenly feel a bond of kinsmanship for him.
Our principal told us not to bring beachballs, air horns, noise makers, party poppers, or anything like that. Silly string must be saved until the END of the ceremony. You can see where this is going right? By the time we got to the G's the silly string came out. I got nailed in the eyes and up my nose with a blast from the gentleman who threatened to karate chop me. Then, I got nailedi n the back of the neck with the hillbilly from behind--and trust me, he was a hillbilly in every sense of the word.
A beachball hit me in the head, knocking my glasses and graduation cap in to the floor. I had to scramble around and find them. Then, someone got mad at me for dodging when he tried to hit SOMEONE ELSE with silly string. His comfort words were, "Trust me, if I had been aiming for you, I would have hit you." The funny thing was, when he actually did aim for me, he missed.
By the time we go to the M's, it was chaos. Silly string was everywhere, and I was covered in it.
That night, to the surprise of no one I know, I did not party. I went straight home, and straight to bed.
All in all, though, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. When I went up to graduate, I heard my uncle, me cousin, and my grandpa screaming louder than my friends. It was, in a sense, magical at that moment. When I took my diploma in my hands, I had the sense of my past and my future colliding into one brief moment that made my heart skip a beat in fear and amazement.
I'm out of high school. I'll be out forever. I'll never go back. Now is the moment of the rest of my life. True, I'll have to go to college, but that's not the same as high school. The wheels of my life, more than ever, are turning. I imagine I'll feel the same when I graduate from college, but it feels like this is one of the most defining moments of my life. Afterall, everyone goes to high school, not everyone goes to college. My mom, although she did go for a couple of years, didn't finish college. She dropped out because I was having health problems, and my did never finished high school. This is a big first, and it's terrifiying and exciting. I hope I can make my family proud.