Fairy Tale Adventure

Once upon a time.

Four of the most beautiful words ever uttered. Usually after these enchanting words, a fairy tale is sure to follow.

There are many people out in the world who downright refuse to believe that fairy tales are real. I have never been known to be one of those individuals. Not that I can completely blame those who are cynical about it. This world isn't full of pixie dust, nor do we have Fairy Godmothers here to do our every bidding, and unfortunately, many people are still searching for true love's first kiss. These things, and many more combined could lead people to think that fairy tales only exist in books. Fairy tales are too "perfect" and are not true to real life.

I beg to disagree.

I have a philosophy that life is very much like a fairy tale. Why, if people only took a closer look at fairy tales they would see that the stories are far from perfect. In life, we all go through hardships, and it is the same in fairy tales. Before Prince Philip could get to his true love, Aurora, he had to battle a dangerous dragon. Snow White had to eat an apple and fall into a perpetual sleep before her prince found her. And Cinderella was lonely and overworked before she went to the ball. 

This is proof that even in fairy tales there were trials and tribulations. And such is the case in real life. We all have our fair share of problems but that doesn't mean we won't have a happy ending. God is the creator of happy endings and most definitely likes us to have one. In a lot of fairy tales there is always someone to aid the heroes and heroines. In our case we have God over a Fairy Godmother. And God will give us an even greater happy ending than has ever been written down, more beautiful and enchanting than fairy tales. 

I have always had an idea that these fairy tales couldn't have just come from nowhere, and that they couldn't just be stories. They had to be inspired and based off of real people. Which is why I have decided to write a story based entirely around fairy tales. Since I am such a believer in fairy tales being true to real life, what could be more reasonable than to write a book about fairy tales. 

Enough rambling for now!

The Publishing a Short Story Adventure

"Short" is the last word I would use in describing any of my stories. From the very first novel I wrote when I was six, all the way up to now, practically all of my stories could stretch across all of America.

 I like to blame my extensive story telling on that I am Irish, because it is a well-known fact that the Irish are natural born storytellers. However, that is probably just an excuse. I guess what it boils down to is I just love to talk ( Sorry to everyone who knows me and can't get me to shut up).

So never did it really occur to me that I should write a short story. In all honesty, I didn't think I would be able to write something that didn't result in 400 pages.  This all changed when one of my English  Lit professors sent me an e-mail and told me about a literary magazine. They were asking for short stories and she really thought I should submit something. 

I remember literally gulping. Me? Actually submit a piece of my writing instead of dreaming about it? Whoa, whoa, whoa Professor! I don't think I am quite ready for this! I have only been writing for 14 years! Maybe I should wait another decade or so!

However, thankfully I am blessed with a beautiful mother who believes in my dream even more than I do. She gave me a lot of encouragement and wouldn't let me pass up this opportunity. So I went to my little laptop and sat in my brown fluffy reading and writing chair next to my overflowing bookshelf and began to write.

For some reason the line "I fell in love when I was seven years old" had been playing in my head for weeks. I felt a little nudge from God that I should write it down and boom! 8 pages later I had a short story. Who would have thought I would have been able to do it? It was nothing short of a miracle. 

I submitted it to the magazine and of course didn't hear back from them for some time but lo and behold! One beautiful day I received an e-mail congratulating me on having my short story titled "What is a Kiss" accepted to the magazine! My first story ever to get published! 

If you would like, you can read my short story down below. If you remember what your first kiss was like or if you ever had a childhood romance then you might rather enjoy yourself!

Enough rambling for now!

                                                    

                                              What Is A Kiss?

I fell in love when I was seven years old. Or better yet, that’s when I was first kissed. And I’ve been told that kissin’ and being in love are one and the same. Most people would figure that seven years old was just a tad too young to be knowing about lips and smoochin’. Most folks would say that my older siblings who had been in high school at that time had probably corrupted my innocence. More than likely the Christian folk would have declared that our deteriorating society and the trash being shown on TV gave youngsters the idea to try kissin', and heaven bless them if they let it happen right under their noses.

Well those good Christians would have fainted and floated right up to heaven if they knew that I first became interested in the idea of kissin’ right in my own Sunday school classroom. It was in the month of June, the summer before I would be starting the third grade. After a dreary winter and a showery spring, June came bouncing along bringing with it a feeling of liveliness. For us kids that liveliness came in the form of sweet freedom from school, but for others that liveliness morphed into something along the lines of summer flings and wild adventures. Bottom line, there was something floating around in that warm summer breeze that left every single person affected.

The story of my first kiss began one warm, dry Sunday morning in Mr. Gloss’s Sunday school classroom. All of us boys and girls were surrounding a large round wooden table. All the boys were smashed together on one side of the table while us girls sat cramped together across from them. It was a known fact that for a girl to sit by a boy or vice versa just wasn’t done. At this point in life us kids were split into two groups. One of these groups was full of kids that thought the opposite sex was crawling with the much-hated cooties. The other consisted of boys and girls who found each other ever so slightly intriguing and would therefore chase each other around the blacktop at recess.

At that moment I had yet to figure out which group I belonged to.

It was amazing I had lasted that long in the in between stage for a majority of my good friends were members of the group that found boys to be cute and interesting creatures. And no boy was more fascinating than Johnny Stevenson. Apparently the way his blue eyes mischievously twinkled had the power to turn any girl into a giggling machine. I wasn’t really sure what the big hoopla was. Thanks to Johnny’s mom being best friends with mine, we were continually being roped together and he had never turned my stomach into butterflies. But out of all the boys I knew I would have bet that he didn’t have cooties.

Now on the previous Sundays we had been learning about our forefather Jacob. I had grown to really like that Jacob and I felt as if he was almost a friend. On that particular Sunday we just so happened to be talking about how Jacob met Rachel. I was listening intently, hanging on every word that Mr. Gloss was saying. Come to think of it, I was probably the only one who had been paying attention. All the girls were probably passing each other secret notes or drawing little hearts with Johnny Stevenson’s name in the corners of their bibles. And the boys…well only the Good Lord knows what the boys were doing. Mr. Gloss began speaking of how our forefather Jacob traveled far and wide and came across the beautiful Rachel watering her Daddy’s sheep. Being the gentleman that he was, Jacob helped Rachel give her sheep water. I was sitting there smiling to myself thinking what a nice man he was. He sounded almost as sweet as my own Daddy.

And then Jacob did something I didn’t see coming. Why, that Jacob grabbed Rachel and planted one on her. And what’s more he went and asked her Daddy if he could marry her. My jaw dropped. What would make Jacob do such a weird thing? Mr. Gloss went on and said that Jacob was in love with Rachel and that he worked for Rachel’s Daddy for seven years in order to marry her.

And then came the big whopper.

Mr. Gloss said that those seven years only seemed like a few days to Jacob because he was so head over heels for Rachel. Of course the girls who didn’t think boys were cootie bags all decided to listen at this part and began to giggle over this romantic sentiment. And the boys just sort of cleared their throats. As for me, my eyes grew wide and my brain started going at 100 miles per hour like it had never done before. And I could have sworn a light bulb turned on over my head, but that could have just been the sun’s ray’s streaming in through the corner window. Jacob kissed Rachel. It must have been one heck of a kiss for him to want to marry her. Could a kiss really make a person want to go and do a bizarre thing like that? I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t even really certain what a kiss between a boy and a girl was… or meant. Up until then I thought kissing was only something crazy teenagers did because they were bored or it was something parents did because that’s what happens when you are married. Now I started thinking that maybe that wasn’t what it was. Maybe kissin’ meant a whole lot more.

What was a kiss?

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had to know what a kiss was and I had to know right then. As soon as Sunday school was over and the boys climbed all over each other racing for the door to go play a rowdy version of ball, us girls stayed behind to talk, much like the way our Mother’s always lingered to gossip after a dinner party. I rounded up every last girl and we all formed a tight knit huddle and when I had their attention I whispered, “What is a kiss?”

My best friend Tiffany, the leader of the gigglers, laughed outright at me, “You don’t know what a kiss is? Haven’t you ever seen a movie?”

I pinched her arm, “I’m not stupid!”

She rubbed her arm with a scowl on her face, “Then what do you wanna know?”

I ignored her and turned to the other girls, “What do you think a kiss is?”

We all fell silent and racked our brains. We all somehow knew that this was the first conversation we had that resembled what grown ups were always talking about. We didn’t wanna say anything dumb. This is what we came up with…

“I think a kiss is something Moms and Dads do. If you wanna be a Mom that’s when you kiss a boy.”

“Kissing is a dang sure way to catch a cold.”

“If you kiss a boy he is gonna tell all the boys and then you’ll die from being embarrassed so bad.”

I gawked at them as if they all had two heads. It was easy to see they didn’t know what a kiss was either. I popped my head out of the huddle and cautiously looked around me to make sure no one else was around to hear what I was about to say because it was of the utmost importance and secrecy. I hunched back down and whispered so quietly everyone had to lean in closer to hear what I said, “Has a boy ever kissed ya?”

Then everything exploded all at one.

“Ewwww.”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t wanna die!”

“If a boy ever kissed me I would run away from home.”

“I heard that if you kiss a boy you aren’t married to, your lips fall off.”

And then the one sly reply that got everyone to shut up was Tiffany who proudly exclaimed, “Not yet!”

The rest of us began buzzing with excitement and worry. We talked amongst ourselves as if she wasn’t there. Was she crazy? Would she catch a disease and die?  Would her lips fall off? Who would she kiss? Then we all stopped and stared at her with saucer size eyes. Her nose was so high up in the air we could all see that she needed to blow her nose. She sighed dreamily and clasped her hands together, “I’m gonna kiss Johnny.”

Even the girls who swore boys were rats were enthralled at this statement. All the girls nodded to each other in agreement. If you’re gonna kiss a boy and risk dying it might as well be Johnny Twinkle Eyes. I crossed my arms and glared at her as I declared for the whole posse to hear, “You’re stupid.”

She pinched my arm.

A peacemaker piped up, “Girls be nice now.”

I shook my head, “I’m not being mean. You’re just stupid. Why would you kiss Johnny if you don’t know what a kiss is?”

She stomped her foot, “I know what kissing is. You put your lips together and make that gross smacking noise.” She then went on to demonstrate how it worked on the back of her hand.

I grabbed my bible and began to storm out of the room, not wanting to associate myself with dumb people. I paused at the door and turned to face the girls who were all staring at me with surprised expressions. I hesitated before I dove in and bravely stated like I was wiser than Solomon “That’s not what a kiss is.”

After that I turned on my heel and sped away. I’m sure after I left that that was the first time that group of girls began to gossip just like all of their mothers, and all about me too. I began to feel sorry for Johnny. I could only hope that he would stomp on Two Lips Tiffany’s foot if she tried to catch him. On the ride home from church I stared out the window and guessed that kissing wasn’t all that bad if Jacob and Rachel did it. But then I got to thinking about Adam and Eve. I figured they had probably kissed, and look what happened to them. After that I began to worry that kissin’ really could make you die.

            My mom snapped me out of my own world when she asked me what I learned about in Sunday school. Without thinking I replied, “Smoochin’”. My parents hesitated before both started laughing. My mother wanted to know what exactly about kissing. “Oh ya know…Jacob kissed that Rachel and then he worked for three days or something for her…Mom…what’s a kiss?” I held my breath hoping for a good and honest answer but my parents only shared a look and smiled at me through the rear view mirror and told me “You’ll know when you are older”.

I wanna slap whoever came up with that saying.

That night as I lay in my double bed I decided to pray and ask God what a kiss was. I figured he knew best since he created smackin’. But before I could get my answer I fell fast asleep. The eye-opening day had wore me out. I woke to my mother hurriedly dragging me out of bed and shoving a pink dress over my head telling me to do something with my hair that resembled a rat’s nest, because Johnny Stevenson and his mom were coming over any minute. I pouted. How was I expected to have a play date when I had more important things on my mind?

            There was something different in the air that morning. That liveliness I had mentioned earlier seemed to be in every breath I took. At the time I didn’t know exactly what it was I was breathing in I just knew I felt like it was Christmas morning. The sun even seemed to light up the world differently. It had a softer glow as if the sun’s rays were reaching down to hug whoever happened to be outside.

            Johnny and his Mom soon arrived and our mothers shooed us out of the house telling us to go and play like good little children. Johnny and I didn’t even say hi to each other but started off lazily walking down the hill to the small pond out behind my house. That didn’t last very long, however, we soon took off in a race to see who would be the last person or the “rotten egg” to reach the water’s edge. Johnny found us small gray rocks to skip across the green pond. Johnny’s rock only skipped twice when mine bounced a good three times. I don’t think he liked that because he was the one who taught me to skip rocks after all.

            I watched as the rocks would kiss the waters edge and that got me to thinking once more. I chucked all my rocks into the pond before I plopped down under our old oak tree to cool off in its shade. I needed to figure out this whole kissin’ business. I began to watch Johnny who was still focused on beating my three skips.

 He glanced over at me and furrowed his eyebrows, “What ya starin’ at?”

            I didn’t hold back, “Johnny, do ya know what a kiss is?”

            His rock clumsily slipped from his hand and all the twinkle snapped out of his eyes, “What?”

            I got up and handed his rock back into his suddenly sweaty hand before I asked him again. This time around I was a bit more careful because I didn’t want him to laugh at me like Tiffany did. I didn’t wanna pinch him. “Do you know what a kiss is?”

            He flung the rock into the pond without even bothering to skip it, “What you wanna know that for?”

            “I wanna make sure you know what a kiss is because Tiffany is gonna kiss ya.” I placed my hands on my hips.

            Disgust crawled across his face and he shook his head madly, “I don’t wanna kiss her.”

            I smiled a bit too big, “That’s good cause she don’t know what a kiss is. I bet if you kissed her your lips would fall off.” I went back to my spot under the tree and left Johnny awkwardly standing there. He kicked at a patch of grass and shoved his hands into pockets. He began turning as pink as my dress. I was about to laugh at him when he sat himself down right across from me.

            That mischievous twinkle flashed across his eyes, “Lucy…do you know what a kiss is?”

            The shoe was on the other foot and I was the one being asked that embarrassing question. I squirmed uncomfortably not knowing what to say. I shrugged, “I dunno. I don’t think anybody does.”

            “I know. I think God invented kissin’. He knew it was the nicest way of showing someone you’re in love with them.”

            I almost went into shock, “So…you mean that kissin’ and being in love…it’s the same thing?”

            Suddenly those blue eyes were sparkling so much it looked like fireworks. The next thing I knew, Johnny pinned me up against the oak tree and planted one on me just like my friend Jacob planted one on Rachel. Johnny’s kiss was just like that summer morning. Warm and dry and it almost felt like the sun’s rays were hugging us but I can’t be sure about that.

            When the kiss was over we looked at each other for a second or two. “I guess we’re in love now.” I told him.

          He nodded, “I guess so.” After that we did the only logical thing for two seven year olds to do. We went back to skipping rocks.

            

Adventure in Staying Focused

It's a scary world out there, folks!
Especially if you ever want to see a book of yours nestled in a neat and tidy bookshelf in bookstores across the country, or crammed into those bookshelves that never seem to be quite big enough in the homes of readers. (Side Note: I am one of those individuals who can never find a bookshelf big enough. I am an intense bookaholic and in being so I am continually buying new books. So not only is the bookshelf in my room over flowing, but I have taken over four other bookshelves in my house. Sorry family!)
However, in order to see my book in any kind of bookshelf I have to find a literary agent, get published, and oh yeah, FINSIH MY BOOK!
I find myself becoming insanely inspired over the slightest things and so I rush to my computer in search of my story, but then I find myself on blogs and websites of my favorite authors. I'm starting to think I have a problem because sometimes I don't even know how I get onto these websites.
But it isn't all for naught, not only do I enjoy myself carousing around these websites but I find out interesting things that will help me on the road to getting published. Thankfully these favorite authors of mine give good writing and publishing tips. But they also give guidelines and reality checks for how hard it is to get published.
But this is where I begin to feel about the size of Stuart Little (For those of you wondering, that's about two inches). The phrase "It's a dog eat dog world" doesn't even come close to describing the world of getting published. Writing is hard work, wracking your brain for the practically perfect opening line to hook the reader, trying to make the characters seem real so the reader feels they could ask them to grab a quick cup of coffee, and making the plot seem effortless and unique.
And once you are done with the whole nose to the grindstone... or in my case, nose to the keyboard, here comes the part where your self confidence will plummet. From what I have read, most authors get turned down around FIFTY times before they ever get published. Now let's think about that for a minute. Fifty can seem like a very non-threatening number... for example, "I'll have fifty scoops of ice cream" doesn't seem so bad, but "My little book I poured my heart and soul into was told fifty times that it wasn't good enough"is a downright tragedy.
However, I am determined NOT to let that bring me down. If I never get published, that still won't keep me from writing. If someone told me to stop writing that would be like them saying "Stop being Robyn".
It's a scary world out there but sometimes it is good to be scared because you can see how strong you really are. And so I need to stop looking at other people's websites (or at least cut way back... let's face it, I will not be able to do it cold turkey) and stop thinking about getting published and just focus on finishing my book.

Enough rambling for now!

The Adventure of Old Stories

I have been writing pretty much ever since I learned the alphabet. So you can imagine just how many stories have piled up over the years. I have two large plastic bags filled to the max with random and scattered papers, stuffed hidden away in my closet.

This is sad to admit, but if there ever was a fire, I would probably grab those bags first, then think about hightailing it out of there. There's too many memories and pieces of me that I wouldn't be able to replace.

Late last night I got the urge to read some of my old stories. After sitting in my closet, rummaging through what was sure to be about a billion papers, I finally found a novel I had written when I was just thirteen years old.

Excitement raced over me when I held that story I hadn't seen in seven years. I scrambled out of my messy, paper covered closet and feverishly began to read. What I thought would be an entertaining stroll down Memory Lane, turned out to be a cringing hike up Bad Writing Mountain.

After reading the first paragraph I found myself shaking my head at my own writing. I was very thirteen. And to make matters worse, I was a thirteen year old who apparently thought she knew the ways of the world like the back of her hand.

The story line jumped around from here to there, the characters didn't have much depth to them, and my facts were all way off. I found myself looking over my shoulder, making sure no one was around to get a peek at this little story. If anyone had gotten a glimpse of this rushed novel I would have been so embarrassed that my face would have permanently remained red.

But the thing is...even with all the rushed story lines, boring characters and bad grammar, I still found that I was enjoying myself. Even though my writing wasn't the best it could be, it undeniably had a lot of heart in it. It had a charming simplicity to it, reminding me of the young girl who looked at the world through rose colored glasses, never allowing the negativity of life to settle into my little world.

Suddenly I felt like I was thirteen again, and was back in my cozy little computer room, typing happily away with the summer sun streaming in through my window. The sounds of 1940's Big Bands serenading me in the background, filling my heart with inspiration and a love for writing.

It doesn't matter that this story didn't turn out to be a classic like The Great Gatsby. It made my heart soar when I was writing it, and that's what is the most important thing.

I realized that I have almost lost that simple charm that used to paint itself across the pages of my stories, giving it a depth I wasn't even aware of. Sometimes I get too caught up in writing a well written story that I forget about that young girl who had the key to writing a beautiful story. Put every last inch of your heart into it.

Funny how the title of that old novel of mine is All My Heart. It's like I knew :)

Enough rambling for now!

The Adventure to Inspiration Part 1

Oh, inspiration! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
I have a love/hate relationship with inspiration. Sometimes it will give me the best story ideas, or it will refuse to come visit me. It seems like there is no in between. When my inspiration tank is almost on empty I like to try a few things.
The first thing on my list of inspiration ideas is I like to watch some choice movies. Movies make me way too happy. I am notorious for having movie marathons with my friends. So of course there are some movies out there that make me inspired to start writing,

One of these movies is Midnight in Paris.
This movie is all about Paris.
Paris in the 1920's.
Paris and the 1920's. Two things, by themselves, can make my heart skip a beat. But put them together and I am in full swoon mode. Paris is dripping with charm. It just might be the prettiest and classiest of all the cities in the world. This movie never fails to get my inspiration going because it's no secret that I was born in the wrong time. I should have been with those Flappers doing the Charleston. Also every thing within me wants to travel. Plus, this movie has some of the greatest writers known to mankind. Fitzgerald and Hemingway. Who doesnt want to spend an hour and a half in the company of some of America's finest writers in one of the most beautiful cities in the world?

I first fell in love with Midnight in Paris within the first few minutes of the film. And you will see why. If this doesn't inspire you, I don't know what will.

The next movie on my inspiration list is none other than... Singin' In the Rain!
Arguably the best musical the world has ever seen. It is also set in the 1920's...I'm sensing a pattern here. This film has the charismatic Gene Kelly. The scene where Gene Kelly dances and sings in the rain, represents how love should be. So happy that it could be the stormiest of nights and you would think the sun is shining. This song makes my old fashioned heart sing!

I could go on about the movies that inspire me, but I won't because I don't think you all have the rest of your lives to hear me ramble on about amazing movies. So in conclusion I will leave you with a clip of a Disney movie. Disney is really the only way to go. Walt Disney is the king of imagination and creativity. All of his movies inspire me and make me smile the entire time I'm watching them. Especially during this scene...

Enough rambling for now!

Germany Adventure

               
                                                   
The first hint about my novel that I'm working on! Half of my book is set in...Good ol' Germany!

Germany is a breathtaking and beautiful country. Germany is famous for many things, such as, the birthplace of Albert Einstein, the astounding Neuschwanstein Castle (Fun Fact for the day: Walt Disney modeled Sleeping Beauty's castle off of the Neuschwanstein). However, my personal favorite thing about Germany, is it is where The Brothers Grimm traveled near and far, here and there, up and down, writing down stories that are now our beloved fairy tales. (Thank you boys!)

                                (The Neuschwanstein Castle. This is what I call a vacation home.)


 I don't think I realized at first what exactly I had done to myself. I was way too caught up in the excitement of writing a new story. How am I supposed to write a novel that takes a place in a country I have never been to. The closest encounter I have ever had with Germany is I sat by a girl, who had just moved from Germany, in my American history class in high school. If only I knew what I know now. I would have asked her every question under the moon about Germany. Of course, I don't think I would have gotten very far. I would have been too distracted by how cool her accent sounded.

And then I had another lightbulb go off when I realized that not only is my knowledge about this country limited, but I know nothing of their language! Once again the closest encounter I have with the German language is my cousin who took German for three years in high school (Hi Jeffy).

So I took matters into my own hands and actually sent an e-mail to the tourism center of the town where my novel is set. I have never done so much research for a story before. Not only did I send an e-mail across the world, but I have poured over my computer for hours upon hours trying to expand my horizons for my story. I'm sure my Dad wishes I put this much effort into my math homework (Sorry Dad). 

This really is a new adventure for me. I have always been obsessed with whatever story I am working on. But I have never tried to track down a tourism center, in hopes they will answer some of my questions. I guess what I have truly realized, more so than the realization of the daunting task of setting my novel in a country I have never personally laid eyes on, is that this novel is different than all the rest. And more importantly, I am really spreading my wings as a writer. Hmmm... spreading my wings... maybe that's why my parents named me Robyn ;)

Enough rambling for now!

My Adventure in Talking to My Favorite Author

Once upon a time I was blissfully browsing through the bookshelves of Borders (RIP Borders) when I stumbled upon a book. Now I know our parents tell us to never judge a book by its cover, but I simply had to this one time. Of course at the time I was a young teenager and the good looking man on the cover, reeled me in, but the author is what made me stay. After I was done praising the cover, I opened the book and within the first paragraph I was hooked and have stayed that way for over five years now. Not just on that one particular book but by everything that one author, Julie Lessman, has written.

Her books have in many ways inspired not only my writing, but my personal life and lives around me. So one day after working up enough courage I decided to e-mail her and tell her just how much her books have blessed me. 

And what do you know, the very next day she e-mailed me back. It's not every day you see an e-mail from one of your favorite authors in your inbox. But I didn't waste any time by trying to take that moment in. I opened that e-mail so fast, lightning would have been jealous.

I don't think I have ever received such a nice e-mail in my life. She was very humble and kind, and without a doubt I know, she is a kindred spirit. I really admire how she takes the time to talk to her readers. One day if I am ever blessed to get published, I hope to be like this favorite author of mine. Ever-thankful and always humble.

If any of you are wondering just who exactly this woman is and what her books are like I suggest you go check out her website. www.julielessman. com

I hope you like her books as much as I do, and if you do, then I am just pre-warning you that you will get no sleep while you are reading her books. These are definitely the kinds of books you stay up until five in the morning to finish.

Enough rambling for now!

Adventurous Imaginations

I have a philosophy about life. That it is one thrilling adventure.

Especially when you are a writer.

Us writers stumble across adventures almost every time we walk out our front door. Or if I'm being honest, adventure can find us even when we are lazily sitting on our couches, eating a bag of Doritos, blankly watching our favorite T.V. shows. In my household, my family and I would most likely be watching Duck Dynasty (Shout out to Si) or Big Bang Theory. 

It might strike some of you odd, or even unbelievable that writers could find adventure sitting in their homes doing absolutely nothing. And I must admit it does seem rather far-fetched. 

But that's what makes being a writer so completely wonderful. Writers don't necessarily have to go out and hang glide off a steep cliff or go deep into the grasslands of Africa and be chased by a fierce and hungry lion to have an adventure. 

Don't get me wrong, that certainly sounds like an exhilarating way to spend your time. However, if you happen to be one of those individuals who don't want to find themselves staring into the amber eyes of lion, getting all close and personal, then trust me when I say that adventure can be found in the safety of a home.

We are able to experience all life has to offer because of a little thing that is most commonly known as an imagination.

God gave writers an amazing imagination that can take them to the four corners of the world, across the seven seas, and maybe even to the moon if we feel the urge to go, without ever having taken a step outside. 

I firmly believe that God gave us such insane imaginations so that writers can write with vivid details so that we can sweep our readers off on a wild ride so that they truly feel they are along for the ride with our characters. 

In fact, I recall telling my beautiful Mediterranean looking sister one day (shout out to Rachel) that the reason I have such an untamable imagination that refuses to stay calm and realistic is because I am a writer and can therefore dream and see clearly all the places I wish to see but can't. And it also helps my readers so they can picture everything I am writing as well. 

Like I was saying before, adventure can come and claim us when we are least expecting it, and that's usually the best kind of adventure. We could be relaxing on our couch with our family laughing at Uncle Si's antics from Duck Dynasty when our imagination will break free from us and we will find ourselves in the middle of an adventure.

Anything and everything can inspire our imaginations, which will therefore inspire a story. So, for my writers out there...always be on the look out for adventure. It could be closer than you think.

Life is still a thrilling adventure, whether you are a writer, reader, or run like the wind away from anything resembling a book. Just be open to greeting your adventure whatever it may be. It could be running for your life from a lion or it could be that your imagination will spring to life and take you off on a crazy whirlwind adventure.

Enough rambling for now!

A Writer's Adventure of Trying to Sleep.

As most writers know, inspiration is a finicky thing. Inspiration never pays us a visit when we need it most. Instead it will wait for the most imperfect moment to come knocking on our door. In my case, inspiration usually comes to call extremely late at night when I should be snug in my bed and happily off in dreamland. It never fails that almost every night I will snuggle into my warm bed and just as I get comfortable, the most brilliant ideas I have ever thought of in my entire life (okay... maybe not that bad) will come bounding into my head, chasing away any thought of sleep.
It can be quite aggravating I assure you. 
So there I am. Laying in bed watching new and exciting scenes of my novel flash across my eyes. My heart will be literally pounding from all of the inspiration rushing through my veins. This will go on for several minutes until I realize I am faced with a dilemma.
This dilemma is called Do-I-Get-Out-Of-Bed-To-Write-All-This-Down-Or-Stay-Where-I-Am-Praying-I-Will-Remember-All-Of-This-In-The-Morning.
More often than not, I'm sorry to say, I end up going with the option of praying I will remember all of the details in the morning. And I'm even sorrier to say that that option usually never works out for me.
As soon as I wake up, my first few thoughts will be about my story and I will lay there staring at the wall, racking my brain to remember every little detail I came up with just hours before. And when I find that I cannot, I solemnly comfort myself, telling myself that those ideas probably weren't all that brilliant to begin with. 
Such is the life of a writer. 
And more importantly such is the adventure of an aspiring author trying to get some sleep. 

Enough rambling for now!