Summer Gal's blog

I make signature banners in ywp.nanowrimo.org. *nodnod* I made mine.

If you want a signature banner, fill out & message me this form, and I'll make you a sig and message you back :)

~form~

text:

what you want it to look like:

preferred image, if any:

other:

oh, and I also make book covers if you want a book cover for your novel/short story/other

again, fill out and message me this form (if you want a book cover)

title:

subtitle (if any):

author name or pen name:

summary:

preferred image, if any:

other:

so yeah. if you want a siggy or cover, message me! :)

please don't take this too seriously xD me (McKieB) and another user on nanowrimo (Saqabub)  made this story a couple months ago by private-messaging sentences back and forth between us. it doesn't make any sense at all, but that's kind of the point. enjoy!

PS: the bold type is was saqabub wrote, the regular type is what I wrote ;)

--- --- --- Read more »

Crazy Man

when I first saw him
he was standing alone
he says "I don't have a family
I don't have a home"
I said "silly boy silly boy
that is impossible"
and he looked at me and said

"I lost my soul
to that rock n' roll
and I packed up my things
and I moved to the city
but I couldn't make it far
with no gas in my car
so I got out and started to walk..."

when he was older
and lost in LA
he said to a stranger
"I got no place to say
the response was "silly man, silly man
what happened to you?"
and he looked at the stranger and said,

"I lost my soul
to that rock n' roll
and I packed up my things
and I moved to the city
but I couldn't make it far
with no gas in my car
so I got out and started to walk...

I lost track of time,
and I lost my mind
making my money
singing on the streets
so I moved to LA
but I've got no place to stay
and five years worth of doubt sinking in"

the last time I saw him
standing by the lake
he says "my life is a joke
and I am a fake
I'm a crazy man crazy man
do you want to know why?"
he turned to me and said

"I lost my soul
to that rock n' roll
and I packed up my things
and I moved to the city
but I couldn't make it far
with no gas in my car
so I got out and started to walk...

I lost track of time,
and I lost my mind
making my money
singing on the streets
so I moved to LA
but I've got no place to stay Read more »

maybe I'll post this in a podcast someday, but for right now, here are the lyrics. :D

~

Crazy Man Read more »

Darkness

I hear the swish of her satin skirt

swish, swish, swish.

I hear the clatter of her anklets

clack, clack, clack.

"Sam," she says.

swish, swish, clack clatter.

the pad of her bare feet on wooden floors.

"Sam," she says, "are you awake?"

"Yes."

Her cold fingertips slide across my forehead

gently, affectionately

her fingers travel down to caress my cheek

"Sam," she says, "I love you."

There is a pause.

clock ticks.

tick tock tick tock.

"Sam," she says, "do you love me too?"

"Of course I do."

She knows I do.

How can I make her sure?

By the light of a dim candle she smiles

She seems to fade into the night

like a beautiful shadow

she seems broken

like a beautiful distaster

swish swish, clack clatter.

the door opens and shuts.

"where are you going?"

She is gone.

She slides through my fingers like wisps of cigarette smoke

Who is she

really?

He smiles up at somber skies

Beneath his eyes a young boy cries

And truth can never see through lies

the darkness is it's own disguise.

I composed this charrie questionnaire for my use and yours. The questions begin generically and then get more interesting xD

(some questions are  taken from Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine, some from Spilling Ink by Anne Mazer and Ellen Potter)

Basic Questions

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Race/species:

Hair Color:

Eye Color:

Skin Tone:

Height:

Weight:

Shoe Size:

Favorite Outfit:

Personal Matters

Family:

Background:

Where does this character live: Read more »

why are homeschoolers always the ones that are judged falsely?

you think that we spend our days cooped up inside, like we're homebodies.

You're the ones that spend all of your time in a classroom.

you think that we can't possibly have friends.

we actually have the social skills to reach out to people and make friends.

you think we're socially awkward.

you only make friends because you are surrounded by people. we know how to seek out our friends.

you think we don't know about lady gaga and all the hit movies.

we heard about them before you ever did.

you think ever single homeschooler is a christian that thinks you have to be too.

yes, i am a christian, but I don't judge you if your not.

You think we have no fashion sense.

we aren't afraid to have our own style. you struggle to fit in the same boring mold other people lay out for you.

you think all homeschoolers are shy.

not all of them, and there is shy public schoolers too. being shy is not a bad thing anyways.

you think we all do our school in our pajamas.

heck, that's the most fun part!

you think homeschooling is a game.

we get more education than you do.

you think we have no lives.

this is the worst one. what do you think we do, spend all our time under rocks? hell no. you're the one that gets up at six and spends your whole day at school, and only has a boyfriend for a couple weeks.

you judge us as if you're so perfect.

you judge us because you don't know us.

Zimzie is the part of your mind that dreams, that breathes smiles and captures rainbows through the air.

Zimzie is not just one, but many, and many for one. It is never the same, if you are never the same.

Zimzie is a great land of lush rainforests where you drink tears and cry ice.

Zimzie is a little mud puddle on the street where you are the reflection.

Zimzie is a barren dessert,

Zimzie is an invisible castle with walls of glass and stairs of coral and rooms of ceilings.

Zimzie is what you see when you look into someones eye; greed and gentleness and anger and happiness.

Zimzie is darkness that claws you apart with talons

Zimzie is the land of romance, or Zimzie is the land of heartbreak.

Zimzie is the place you go when your tears overflow the dam, bringing you there in crystal boats, crossing through earthen gates.

Zimzie is you, Zimzie is part of you, and Zimzie is not ignored, even if you try.

Zimzie is the beat of your heart, the thoughts in your mind, the words on your tongue that taste like cherries and salt.

Zimzie is dreams.

Zimzie is whatever you are

Zimzie is whatever you want to be

Zimzie is what you were, what you will be, what you can be, and what keeps you lingering on who you should be.

Zimzie is whatever you want it to be. Read more »

warning: this is kind of long :P

This is the first actual sentence I’ve written on this page. It doesn’t look like much

Because it isn’t much

It’s just a bunch of words

On a page

That don’t mean much.

I live wherever I want to on this page. I can write

Anything

Because I can. I am a writer

And my writing is boring

Or amazing

Or something.

My characters do not like me when

I get stuck because

They have so much to say

But I don’t

And I won’t listen.

There are five senses to use

When you’re writing

You need to

Smell your writing and

Hear your writing

And taste your writing

And feel your writing

And something else that I

Cannot remember

This was a blank page but now

I filled it but

It is just a bunch of gibberish

In poem form

That doesn’t even rhyme. Read more »

“So, where are we going?” Willifer asked, bounding between Chris and Sally excitedly, his backpack, now laden with their breakfast, banged against his back noisily.
 “The camp,” Sally said.
 Willifer stopped dead in his tracks. “The camp? Oh, no no no no there could be murderers there.”  He bounded in front of Sally and stopped, flailing his arms dramatically. “Murderers!!” Read more »

 The cottage Vondra lived in was firmly made of logs, caked mud, and fern fronds. On the inside, the floor was earthen and there was a hearth, a little thatch rug, a bamboo table and in the back, sleeping quarters and a little kitchen. Upstairs was Vondra’s room and a storage closet. Vondra ordered everyone to sit while she “fetched lunch.” Read more »

Prologue
 Deep in the dark, tangled forests of Dumberkew, a small camp, built on the loose dirt of a clearing, was lit up with the glow of a growing fire. Circling the fire were five huts, put together with twigs and fern fronds that rustled despondently in the breeze. Read more »

Omg I am so happy! On November 25th, I won nanowrimo with 15008 words!!! *squeals*

.....whoa. I haven't been on in a while. Hii! *waves at fellow writers*

He stands in the middle of the room and he doesn't take a step towards me

But he doesn't retreat

And I know better than to close the cold gap between us Read more »

*Darius* Read more »

sitting cross-legged on my carpet

surrounded by my lavender walls

scraps of paper and colored pencils spread out in front of me

door closed

do not bother me.

draw. cut. paste.

that phrase that is not much but spikes my interest,

the one clung to the fridge in magnetic letters:

your rainbow butterfly home grow gentle.

do not bother me.

please.

  Read more »

Sitting on a chilly iron chair on a star touched balcony babbling dreams of umbrellas and cinnamon,
Pausing to listen to the ocean’s reply and smell the salt and burnt soda bread.
Pausing to take another sip of cold tea. Read more »

Dear writing slump virus that has inevitably contaminated my brain, Read more »

In my mind.

In my mind there was a time when the stars aligned perfectly

And when I fit a missing piece into a puzzle another didn't come out

and I didn't feel like a doll being torn apart painfully

One.

String.

At.

A.

Time.

When I smiled and theirs didn't fade, and the voices behind me were calling for me

Not yelling for me to go away

Or perhaps, even worse the words you

Don't.

Want.

Me. Read more »

how I was when you found me.mp3

you leave me with aspects of the world watching me through their smiling eyes

and through my shattered walls and contemplating who I was and never will be

contemplating life as it should be

you leave me with punture wounds through the core of my very being

bleeding uselessly into empty space that grew musty in my cluttered mind

watching my every step and wondering where I'm going.

contemplating turning back too late

  Read more »

Surfing the internet, accidentally typing in youngwritersproject.com not dot org... no worries, the browser will simply bring up a search bar and I can click the link....wait...oh my gosh. Do you you really think I'm that stupid?

"congradulations, you've won a prize of your choice! Click desired prize and enter email and billing information!"

Might as well say: "congradulations! you've won a fake contest and the chance to get your inbox (and mailbox) overloaded with useless spam!" Read more »

Griffith could entertain himself for hours on end with a notepad and a moth in the window, cocking his head at me every now and then and muttering in his hollow, quiet voice, “it’s not indigenous to this area.” And I would only smile faintly back and return to my reading. Griffith and I never minced words, at least the ones we bothered to speak. Our dialogues formed bulky patterns, and I found it hard to open him up anymore. Read more »

Trendy?

Hows about not.

Erg...I need a change.

Rethink your wardrobe.

Empty your closet.

Injenuity, you see, is key.

New syle.

Vermont kinda trendy.

Except redneck clothes.

No redneck clothes.

Tops with cute belts.

Ingenious!

Options galore

Nowhere to start

Oh, but still no makeup.

Far far far in the future, maybe (not)

So out there.

Up top! Read more »

I could say that it's your smile that just sets me off

But that would be singling out your beauty

the beauty that I want to hold in my eyes forever

i'll have to settle for a snapshot in my head

I could say that your eyes are deep as the sea

but cliches are not enough

to tell you how I feel about you

It's not like I can just copy the beautiful things you've said

I could tell you that everything about you is perfect Read more »

The Young Writers Project Poem

Your writing.

Optionless.

Unrated. Read more »

I wish I could take a million metaphors and things people said

and combine them

And pretend

that they're mine

because the words I write are jumbed letters from my keyboard (that don't mean much)

and the stories I write don't leave me wanting to continue (like they should)

and my poetry is just a bunch of taps on my keyboard and some creative

and

repetitive

'enters'.

(not William Shakespeare stuff.) Read more »

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Supply bringer-to Read more »

They say a picture is worth a thousand words
Does that mean you are actually worth a million
Words scattered on paper
Worth more than you frozen in time
With a smile worth a hundred words that form the lyrics of my favorite song
The one I always sing along
To
The one always in my head right next to you?
Are you worth the words in a love story?

If a picture lasts longer
But I would rather live in the moment no matter how long it lasts
Would you forgive me for not taking out my camera
And not asking for you to smile pretty
Because your already smiling pretty Read more »