So about a week ago, this book website contacted me and asked if they could feature me as an "Author of the Week" type thing. I looked into it a bit, and agreed. After numerous emails back and forth, the result is this: http://arisbooks.net/44901.html
How cool is that?
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Unfathomable
(If you recognize this post from my writing blog, it's because I couldn't contain my happiness)
Two pieces of crucial information are required before this post will make sense:
First, there's this boy, Codename: Sam. Sam is serving a 2-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Washington D.C., and he teaches in Spanish. He is not allowed the modern conveniences of Facebook, is allowed thirty minutes each week to email family members, and can only call home twice a year: Christmas and Mother's day. For the past twenty months, he and I have communicated solely by means of handwritten letter and the old fashioned postoffice.
Second, my birthday is soon upon us.
In one of Sam's last letters, I was told that I'd be getting my birthday present from him soon, but he wasn't specific about when it was coming. He just asked that I wait until my birthday to open it. Well, today I collected the mail and found a large, flat box with my name on it, from some indiscernible company. Curious, and not thinking, I began to open it.
First, I saw this:
I thought I read it wrong, and couldn't help myself. I tore off the packaging.
I was in shock. I turned over the sturdy, hardcover book in my hands, and found this:
A message from him on the back:
411 pages of my writing. In a hardcover book.
I'm still dying. I don't think I've ever laughed and cried when I received a present before. I was struck speechless for almost an entire half-hour, and my mom thought something was seriously wrong when I called to tell her. It's just so beautiful!
If you helped this come to fruition in any way, thank you so much!
Two pieces of crucial information are required before this post will make sense:
First, there's this boy, Codename: Sam. Sam is serving a 2-year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Washington D.C., and he teaches in Spanish. He is not allowed the modern conveniences of Facebook, is allowed thirty minutes each week to email family members, and can only call home twice a year: Christmas and Mother's day. For the past twenty months, he and I have communicated solely by means of handwritten letter and the old fashioned postoffice.
Second, my birthday is soon upon us.
In one of Sam's last letters, I was told that I'd be getting my birthday present from him soon, but he wasn't specific about when it was coming. He just asked that I wait until my birthday to open it. Well, today I collected the mail and found a large, flat box with my name on it, from some indiscernible company. Curious, and not thinking, I began to open it.
First, I saw this:
I thought I read it wrong, and couldn't help myself. I tore off the packaging.
I was in shock. I turned over the sturdy, hardcover book in my hands, and found this:
A message from him on the back:
411 pages of my writing. In a hardcover book.
I'm still dying. I don't think I've ever laughed and cried when I received a present before. I was struck speechless for almost an entire half-hour, and my mom thought something was seriously wrong when I called to tell her. It's just so beautiful!
If you helped this come to fruition in any way, thank you so much!
Monday, June 20, 2011
No Way
I think--between long talks with my cousin, brother, and parents, long walks alone, and helpful conversations with other people I've needed to talk to--that things might actually be smoothing out for me. I say it's about time. Part of me is incredibly wary though, that I might be getting a few-day respite just to prepare me for another big drop. I'm still in the tree, but I think the rocks are leaving less of an imprint now. It's kind of nice.
I'm still putting up with a ton of wrist pain, but it's a bit more manageable now. I have one FHE brother up here who's had to have CT corrective surgery, so he's been teaching me some stretches and wrist exercises that have been helping too. It's progress, but if anyone has any other suggestions, I'm all ears.
My orchestra concert went really well on Friday, and I'm so glad Shelly was able to come up to listen! Hopefully I can get a CD or DVD to send home, so maybe those can circulate through the family to anyone who's interested.
I registered for my fall classes, and am at 15 credits with only four actual classes. So far, it's looking like this:
In theory, by the end of next semester, I'll be an EMT!
In other good news, my boss at the theater is willing to take me back for the 8-week summer session, so I'll be able to go back home and to work!
I don't know what it's like for everyone, but I was recently struck by the fact that I'm still younger than missionaries, but in about two weeks, I'll be the same age as missionaries. That's weird. I'm so used to thinking of missionaries being guys much older than me, and then RMs at school are somehow "my age". Plus, I'm so excited to start a new semester in which, when everyone goes around the circle and lists their name, hometown, major, and age, I'll proudly be able to answer "not eighteen!" I haven't minded being eighteen, I'm just tired of getting looked down on as "the baby" when everyone else in my group is older. It's like I'm back at youth dances, when the cute boy asks you to dance, and everything's going fine until he asks how old you are. Anything less than sixteen, and the conversation is immediately done. People look at me funny when I say I'm eighteen and have forty-eight credits.
Ok, enough of proving my immaturity by whining about not being older. I hope everyone is having a fabulous, warm summer. I know I am...not!
One final bit, because I want to brag a little. Some of you know that I spend a lot of time writing fiction stories. In fact, I finished writing my first novel just before classes started this semester. It's a simple little thing that's up on a website for whoever wants to read it, really just a first draft that I'm working on editing. I have two cool announcements regarding it though: first, I submitted the online draft to the US Copyright Office, legally documenting that my book is mine, and no one can ever steal it from me. Second, a website called Ari's Books found my story, read a bit of it, and liked it so much that they're making me the featured author for the next two weeks! It won't be up until Thursday, but I'll post a link. I'm so excited though! They asked me to at least make an eBook copy of it, and offered to sell it for me, but I won't do it until I've edited the novel more. Sigh. We'll see where this crazy train takes me.
Love you all!
I'm still putting up with a ton of wrist pain, but it's a bit more manageable now. I have one FHE brother up here who's had to have CT corrective surgery, so he's been teaching me some stretches and wrist exercises that have been helping too. It's progress, but if anyone has any other suggestions, I'm all ears.
My orchestra concert went really well on Friday, and I'm so glad Shelly was able to come up to listen! Hopefully I can get a CD or DVD to send home, so maybe those can circulate through the family to anyone who's interested.
I registered for my fall classes, and am at 15 credits with only four actual classes. So far, it's looking like this:
In other good news, my boss at the theater is willing to take me back for the 8-week summer session, so I'll be able to go back home and to work!
I don't know what it's like for everyone, but I was recently struck by the fact that I'm still younger than missionaries, but in about two weeks, I'll be the same age as missionaries. That's weird. I'm so used to thinking of missionaries being guys much older than me, and then RMs at school are somehow "my age". Plus, I'm so excited to start a new semester in which, when everyone goes around the circle and lists their name, hometown, major, and age, I'll proudly be able to answer "not eighteen!" I haven't minded being eighteen, I'm just tired of getting looked down on as "the baby" when everyone else in my group is older. It's like I'm back at youth dances, when the cute boy asks you to dance, and everything's going fine until he asks how old you are. Anything less than sixteen, and the conversation is immediately done. People look at me funny when I say I'm eighteen and have forty-eight credits.
Ok, enough of proving my immaturity by whining about not being older. I hope everyone is having a fabulous, warm summer. I know I am...not!
One final bit, because I want to brag a little. Some of you know that I spend a lot of time writing fiction stories. In fact, I finished writing my first novel just before classes started this semester. It's a simple little thing that's up on a website for whoever wants to read it, really just a first draft that I'm working on editing. I have two cool announcements regarding it though: first, I submitted the online draft to the US Copyright Office, legally documenting that my book is mine, and no one can ever steal it from me. Second, a website called Ari's Books found my story, read a bit of it, and liked it so much that they're making me the featured author for the next two weeks! It won't be up until Thursday, but I'll post a link. I'm so excited though! They asked me to at least make an eBook copy of it, and offered to sell it for me, but I won't do it until I've edited the novel more. Sigh. We'll see where this crazy train takes me.
Love you all!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Forever [Too] Young
My weeks seem to have become one slew of insanity after another. Between a bajillion and two doctors appointments, midterms, exams, and personal life, this weekend could not come soon enough.
Take heart, only one of the bajillion doctor appointments was mine. Most involve my lovely roommate and making sure she can function like a normal human being. Mine involved a trip to the student health center because my hands and wrists have been bothering me for the past three-ish weeks. As a writer, student, and violinist with an upcoming concert, hand and wrist pain isn't something I want to ignore. So I went to the doctor, explained the abuse I put my hands through, and he said the same thing that, I promise you, nearly every doctor I've seen in the past four years has told me: "Well, it sounds and looks a whole lot like _______, but you're too young to have that." This time, Carpal Tunnel gets put in the space. I guess my body just wants to be older than it really is. Regardless, he strapped me into clunky black braces (facebook has a picture), gave me some anti-inflammatories, and told me to see him in two weeks. Meanwhile, hand writing is near impossible to do legibly, typing takes twice as long as normal, and I slept with knee socks up to elbows last night so that I didn't attack myself with the Velcro. It was quite comical, if I do say so myself; the socks are lovely, blue, and striped. I went to wipe my hair out of my face in the morning, and clubbed my head with my sock/brace stump. Better than anything though, was the almost instant realization by everyone who's read my book that my braces look almost identical to the bracers my characters wear for protection while fighting. It's true: I could cause some serious damage in them!
Well, anyone who's going to be in Rexburg next Friday is welcome to come to my orchestra concert. My life is pretty boring, otherwise. Just the daily dragon fighting, not much else.
Oh, and if you see my sister today, wish her happy birthday!
I love you small child!
Take heart, only one of the bajillion doctor appointments was mine. Most involve my lovely roommate and making sure she can function like a normal human being. Mine involved a trip to the student health center because my hands and wrists have been bothering me for the past three-ish weeks. As a writer, student, and violinist with an upcoming concert, hand and wrist pain isn't something I want to ignore. So I went to the doctor, explained the abuse I put my hands through, and he said the same thing that, I promise you, nearly every doctor I've seen in the past four years has told me: "Well, it sounds and looks a whole lot like _______, but you're too young to have that." This time, Carpal Tunnel gets put in the space. I guess my body just wants to be older than it really is. Regardless, he strapped me into clunky black braces (facebook has a picture), gave me some anti-inflammatories, and told me to see him in two weeks. Meanwhile, hand writing is near impossible to do legibly, typing takes twice as long as normal, and I slept with knee socks up to elbows last night so that I didn't attack myself with the Velcro. It was quite comical, if I do say so myself; the socks are lovely, blue, and striped. I went to wipe my hair out of my face in the morning, and clubbed my head with my sock/brace stump. Better than anything though, was the almost instant realization by everyone who's read my book that my braces look almost identical to the bracers my characters wear for protection while fighting. It's true: I could cause some serious damage in them!
Well, anyone who's going to be in Rexburg next Friday is welcome to come to my orchestra concert. My life is pretty boring, otherwise. Just the daily dragon fighting, not much else.
Oh, and if you see my sister today, wish her happy birthday!
I love you small child!
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