It's OVER.

Prom, that is. The supposed epitome of my high school career? Yeah, it's not all that great. Which is perfectly FINE with me, cuz I had virtually no expectations! (My dress was fabulous, though.) My friends and I were literally the first ones out of the ballroom. We sat on a street corner and sang Les Mis, which turned quite a few heads. But I could care less who stared, because I was looking forward to the

AFTER-PARTY.

And what a party it was! I went to hang out with all of my best friends and we played a bunch of improv games and had a Michael Buble dancing montage. After we ate our weight in mini hotdogs, fruit, and soda, it came time to "unwind" (which was extremely difficult after the high-energy improv games). Do you want to know what we did?

We watched the worst movie in the history of the universe.

When I announce the title, I guarantee every girl reading this post is going to cringe. It's a little thing called Lost in Austen, and it's a complete and total train wreck. Of course, we knew it was a monstrosity, which was the entire point of watching it. I fell asleep on the couch after Collins married Jane (!!!), woke up to find Mr. Bennet bleeding profusely (which made me laugh hysterically and freaked out everyone who thought I was fast asleep), fell asleep again, and woke up to find Mr. Darcy wandering the streets of modern day London. It's truly terrible and kind of crass, but at 1:00 AM it was hysterically funny and since we knew it would be horrible, it was impossible to be disappointed. Here's the trailer to prove it's insanity:

I did not have the misfortune of witnessing that little Darcy bit. Apparently it's a joke about an actor? All I know is that it's a strange movie, but kind of like a car crash: Terribly horrific, but you still turn your head to see it.

The movie did get me thinking, though. What would happen if I found myself in the throes of an Austen novel?

Immediately I thought about the dancing. After all, that's the best part of any period drama! Except that I have minimal knowledge of how to dance and would probably ruin everything. Perhaps it would be endearing? I envisioned myself breaking every object at Netherfield and decided that it might be a good idea to keep the dancing at a minimum until I officially knew what I was doing.

What if I was called to the pianoforte? That would probably be a disaster as well. I would play the beginning of a Taylor Swift song, forget how to play the first page of "Married Life", and pluck out the beginning of the Harry Potter theme before dying of shame. Maybe someone could play and I could sing? Now that was a better daydream. Very Marianne Dashwood a la Kate Winslet.

Then I mentally jump into the TARDIS, fast-foward to Downton Abbey, and envision myself playing piano with William. *sigh*

I guess my point is that the premise of the movie does touch on something probably every girl can relate to. Who WOULDN'T want to jump into their favorite book!? (Unless you're reading The Hunger Games. Just let Peeta come to you.) Thing is, instead of producing glorified fan-fiction like this wonderfullll movie I had the pleasureeee of viewing, we writers fashion entirely new stories that introduce a whole new world that we have the honor of plunging into ourselves. Isn't that the whole reason we write? To fully experience a story that is not our own?

Now, I am off to study and force myself through the SAT, my AP Spanish test, and a handful of regular tests. Maybe I'll actually write something along the way?

Blocked

I am suffering from major writer's block, and I'd like to blame the Internet blocks at my school. I can't get to Google Docs, which means no writing for Monica during school hours. Which is where I do half my work! No wonder nothing is getting done!

The main problem is that I can barely get through homework, much less have time for myself. After prom this weekend, my SAT test next Saturday, followed by my band concert next Saturday, followed by my AP Spanish test, I might actually be productive. Until then, I'm going to try and get the creative juices flowing.

Usually I listen to certain genres of music while I'm working on certain stages of a project, or a certain type of project. But lately, my taste in musical has been all over the place! First, the song that is stuck in my head:

DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THESE BOYS EVEN ARE. I know one is named Nialls (not sure which one), one is Irish (I can't tell which when they're singing), and they're from over the pond. And I know a girl who went to one of their concerts. That's it. But this song is constantly stuck in my  head and I sort of like it. But I already had my boy band phase: THE JONAS BROTHERS. Only because Nick Jonas is absurdly handsome and actually really talented. Now Kevin is married, Joe is off being weird, but Nick has only gotten better. How can I prove that? COME LOOK.

Les Miserables is my all-time favorite musical. My dream is to play Eponine one day. I cry when I sing her part sometimes and I've literally had dreams about playing her. My best friends cover Marius and Cosette and we pretty much dominate this song.

Okay, so Nick isn't the most phenomenal Marius ever. But he is most certainly the most attractive. See, Les Miserables is my power music. I listen to it before I debate, before concerts, and even before I write. So Nick Jonas is therefore totally relevant.

I would share more music, but I must study some more. More music some other day!

Now what?

I feel like such a bum, not finishing Script Frenzy. They're still sending me inspirational e-mails... It's kind of like an awkward break-up.

Script Frenzy: "I really just want to see you succeed. I think you're great and---"
Me: "I'm sorry, this isn't working."
Script Frenzy: "Wh-what? But I thought that you were a swashbuckling writer, unafraid of new challenges?"
Me: *sigh* "I am. But... there's someone else."
Script Frenzy: "WHO IS IT!? NaNoWriMo? No, too far away. Camp NaNoWriMo!?"
Me: "It's... Holy Week."
Script Frenzy: *dumbfounded*
Me: "... and cheerleading try-outs..."
Script Frenzy: *gasp* "Two...!?"
Me: "... and prom."
Script Frenzy: *mother of all gasps* *dies on the spot*
Me: "Did I mention SAT studying? Oh, and my big scary AP Spanish test. And all my regular classes? Oh, and then there were the college visits..."

Thing is, my idea wasn't developed enough for me to go trucking through a hundred pages of it. Not with this much stuff going on. So there, I've made my excuses. Please, forgive me. I beg your pardon.

IN OTHER NEWS.

• According to my battle plans, next month is a research month! Huzzah! Except that I am a horrible researcher. Not so huzzah-esque. I'm researching early 20th century Ireland, which is pretty much AWESOME, but also extremely challenging. STORY TIME. *scene goes blurry*
• So this one time, I went to the library. I took out a book about the IRA and planned to read the chapters that focused on the 1910's-20's. I handed it to the librarian and she said to me, "Is this for school?" Being so proud of my historical fiction writerness, I declared, "No! Just for fun." The librarian made a face and said, "Well that looks boring." I returned the book a week later because I couldn't understand a lick of it. Darn you Irish politics.

• Without Script Frenzy, that makes this month a free write month! Yippee! I am already leafing through my old notes and inspiration to make a final decision on my NaNoWriMo topic and looking over short stories that need finishing.
• I also just watched 3 hours of Downtown Abbey and feel pretty goshdarn inspired. There were certain parts I could have done without *elbow* if-ya-know-what-I-mean, but overall I enjoyed it. Although, after all of that, relatively few people have remained in my favor. And I love William, even though he gets like 2 minutes of screen time and he's not even important. (NO SPOILERS, PLEASE. IF IT TURNS OUT HE'S A SERIAL KILLER OR SOMETHING, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. I'M NOT LISTENING... LALALALALA...)
• In terms of reading, I just conquered May the Road Rise to Meet You, which was quite good overall. The author had too many storylines, however, and I don't think any of the aspects of the plot ever fully developed. Now I am back to Emma, which is even better! And I'm reading A Tale of Two Cities for school, which is quite enjoyable thus far. If you have read any or all of these books, please bring the discussion to the comment section. Sans spoilers, of course.

I plan to keep you all posted on my adventures, assuming I actually write something and don't end up watching Doctor Who while sketching the Twelve Dancing Princesses again. (I was always a strange child.) Until then, farewell.

Well, this is awkward.

So, it doesn't look like I'm going to be finishing Script Frenzy.

Hold back your tears, it's alright. This just wasn't a good month. I'm leaving in T-minus 10 minutes for a three day weekend full of college visits (!) and I have cheerleading try-outs all of next week (!) and then prom (!!!), so I don't think it's going to get much further. I'm sorry.

BUT, that means that I am now able to free write and research for historical fiction! Huzzah!

Here is a look at the battle plans that hang proudly in my bedroom. My muse, Sir Peter of Whimsy, tends to mosey along whereas I am forced to take the direct route. Have a look! (NaNoWriMo is covered by the zebra print flower my little sister made me. O_O)

I was also going to share a picture of my Victory! poster (featuring a pretty awesome Dalek), but the computer hates me. :(

Easter Coma...

I am in a post-Easter coma. I had a great Triduum, thankyouverymuch, and quite possibly the best Easter ever (except for the part where I got attacked by a deranged kite). But now I am pages and pages and pages behind on my script. Because who spends the hols writing a script, eh? To make matters worse, I have a weekend of college visits coming up, which means I'm going to be horribly off schedule. Gah! And the worst part is, I have no excuse. I spent, like, four hours watching Doctor Who on Monday! Okay, not four hours. It was three. But still!

According to the Script Frenzy website, I need to write 5 pages a day to finish on time. Which really translates to about 7 when you include all of the random days I'm going to have to take off. See, now if I had the TARDIS, we could time travel and we wouldn't have this problem and...

Ahem. Did I mention I'm watching another episode tonight? Livin' life to the fullest.

Furthermore, my noveling keeps distracting me. Let's face it - noveling in my passion. And I think I've come up with my NaNoWriMo plot. I love NaNoWriMo, because I can break out of my normal genre and experiment. And not have to edit! Yippee! But now I'm in over my head with this script and it's kind of hard to ignore the fantastic ideas that are taunting me in the Noveling Corner. Drat!

Okay. The update.

Day #10
Page Count: 17
I don't want to post any of the script because it is truly awful. Good day.

Terrible Twos

Day #2
Page Count: 8
Update: The flowers are still a mystery. James is still a mystery. Lalala! Yesterday, James stepped of the platform and exchanged a few words with a passenger, which didn't go over too well. James isn't one to socialize. Today, he caught a taxi and stopped at a huge white mansion. His mind wandered to the past and his caretakers, Sam and Miriam, who took care of him while he took refuge from the bombing in London. We discovered his father is at the front lines, and met Peter Smith, Jamie's first friend in the small town of Charlotteville. Peter sort of fell out of a tree... that's kind of important. He kind of stuck his head through the window to make his new acquaintance. He's the dangerous type. *flashy smile*

Today, I hit my first roadblock.

I guess that was to be expected, considering I didn't have much planned. Basically, I couldn't figure out where to introduce Peter. I was like - "HULLO. BOY, WHERE YOU AT?" (That was a strange mix of my cockney/British accent, as well as muh Southern twang mixed with gangstah.) Except I didn't say that. I just stared at the screen and thought, "Hmmm. I believe we are at an impasse."

(I tried to find a video of the Dread Pirate Roberts saying that, but to no avail. So here is a photo!)


He's so devilishly handsome. Without the mask... and the stache... trust me. Just... Never mind. *pouts* AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HATES THE STACHE!?

Also, I realized 5 pages into the script that I had never given any indication of the name of the main character. I'm thinking about leaving it a mystery... maybe just until Peter shows up? *scrambles to write*

Mystery solved. I dub thee Jamie, and thee, Peter Smith. *bows gallantly*

So far, Mission Impossible hasn't been too difficult. I'm not 100% thrilled with some of the scenes and transitions, but it's there. I think I've more or less captured the characters, which means that the script is salvageable. Here's a sample:

InT. JAMES' BEDROOM - DAY - PAST

JAMES is crying at this point. He is sitting on his bed with his things strewn about him. His suitcase sits on the floor - he hasn't bothered to move it yet.

YOUNG BOY (O.c.)(CONT'D)

Hullo.

JAMES looks up abruptly, searching for the voice.

JAMES

(sniffling and trying to wipe away his tears) H-hello?

YOUNG BOY

(popping his head through the window) You're the Londoner, right? The one who's dad's off at the front?

JAMES nods absently.

YOUNG BOY

Thought so. Where's your mum?

JAMES makes no answer. He is back to his surly self.

YOUNG BOY

(understanding) A quiet one, I get it. Back home, I assume. Or is she dead? Dead would be good. Orphans always have the best fun. Don't you read?

JAMES

(half-heartedly) On occasion.

YOUNG BOY

(aghast) I don't. But my father tells me all the stories I need to know. Half of them have orphans.

The YOUNG BOY'S head is still the only visible body part. JAMES realizes this and makes a face.

JAMES

How are you doing that?

YOUNG BOY

What?

JAMES

Your... head.

YoUNG BOY

Tree, silly. Are you daft?

JAMES

(in protest) No.

The YOUNG BOY sticks his hand through the window, with great difficulty. JAMES stares at it, confused.

YOUNG BOY

Name's Peter. Peter Smith, but I like plain Peter. (pause) (waving his hand) Go on, shake it. I don't bite. Unless you bite first... then that's another matter entirely.

JAMES slowly gets up from his bed and reaches for PETER'S hand. They have a good firm handshake like proper English gentlemen and PETER smiles.

PETER

I guess that makes us friends, eh? Think of that. (pause) (whispered) So what's it like living with the old lady, huh? I hear she-

MIRIAM (O.S.)

James? James, is that you making all that noise?

PETER

James, eh? Bit stuffy, isn't it?

JAMES

(indignant) My father's name is James.

PETER

Well, you can't both be James. How about Jamie? Easier to say, easier to remember. Makes you sound a little less stuck-up and whatnot.

MIRIAM

James, I'm coming up right this instant. I still haven't received a full apology, and I will not accept any nonsense.

CREAKING as MIRIAM stomps up the stairs. PETER'S eyes go wide in panic; JAMES even musters a look of concern.

PETER

Blast it. Not again.

JAMES

Again?

PETER

Bye, Jamie. Whatever she does to you, don't tell her I was here. The last time...

JAMES

Last time?

PETER

Forget I said anything. (his face disappears as he shuffles down the tree) If she asks, I...!

A loud CRASH as PETER falls from the tree. The moment doesn't linger long enough for us to catch the aftermath. The look of surprise on JAMIE'S face just barely registers, as does the pounding of MIRIAM'S feet as she rushes to PETER'S rescue.

It reminds me of "Up". I can't help it.

Oh, and all of this material is copyright of yours truly. Sleazy scumbags, keep your grubby little fingers off my baby!!!

Let the Games begin.

But not the Hunger Games, nor the Olympic Games, but the SCRIPT FRENZY GAMES!

DAY ONE OF SCRIPT FRENZY.

Is it so wrong if I'm not freaking out? I wrote just over three pages this morning, and scriptwriting seems considerably easier than noveling. (Please, writers, don't shoot me if you disagree!) But I mean, it's all showing. You can go wherever you want, and as long as you can write good dialogue, you're more or less set. The hardest part is resisting the urge to direct as I write. You're not supposed to be overly descriptive in screenplays, and I have to fight the temptation to describe every single one of the shots or give full character backstory. But so far, the story is unfolding nicely. Here's a sample:

Int. Train

JAMES sits alone inside his car. In his hand, he is holding a small bouquet of wilting flowers. It must be a warm day, because his collar is loose, and the other passengers are fanning themselves. He is frowning and his fellow travelers seem to be more or less avoiding contact.

PASSENGER
(leaning from across the aisle) (to James) Hullo, sir. Fine weather we're having, eh?

JAMES
(flatly) I suppose so, yes.

PASSENGER
Where are you headed?

JAMES
(looking out the window, uninterested) Charlotteville.

PASSENGER
(recognition) Ah, Charlotteville. Quaint little town. Stopped there myself, on occasion. (noticing the bouquet) Going to visit anyone?

JAMES
(pause) Yes.

It's rather flowery, I suppose, but I'm experimenting. Usually I have a sense of what's good and what isn't, but this is uncharted territory! Now the challenge is to get through my last performance of the school musical without passing out from exhaustion (we have to strike set, which means I will be there for an ETERNITY), then do homework and get sleep. Not to mention that it's HOLY WEEK *fanfare* which means I need to really work on squeezing the best outta Lent. Good Friday is usually a humbling experience for me: I swore of any and all technology last year, including music, and because I don't have school, it's usually a quiet atmosphere. I wish you all the best with your Holy Week, and I can tell you personally that I simply cannot wait until Easter.

Happy writing!