Lesson #2: Characters~Pt. 1

No one wants to have a perfect character.

Let's be honest here--what fun is it to read about someone who lives the ideal life, has an ideal personality, and looks perfect? It just reminds us how much our lives suck. It reminds us how screwed up our family is, and how mean we sometimes can be, and how we don't have a perfect body. If there's one thing that bothers me it's when characters aren't people I can easily relate to.

That being said, here's a little something you can use to make your characters more realistic.

In 7th or 8th grade, my class came up with "ASHAT." It stands for 5 things to think about for your character: Appearance, Speech, How others react to him/her, Actions, and Thoughts.

Step One: Appearance.


Some basic questions to think about:
-What clothes does he/she wear?
-How does he/she present herself?
-How does he/she walk?
-What does her physical appearance reveal?
-Does your character have any scars?

Like I said before--nobody's perfect. Don't be afraid to give your characters some flaws. Maybe she's short. Maybe he doesn't have a six pack. Maybe she has a little bit of a tummy. Maybe he has acne. Maybe she dresses in sweatpants all the time. Maybe he likes Armani suits.

Catch my drift?

Here's an example:

A boy is walking down the hallway, hunched over. His dark hair is tangled in a wild mess and his pale skin looks even paler underneath the fluorescent lights. He wears jeans that are two sizes too big, and a sweatshirt that is fraying on the edges. 


When you read that, what can you conclude about the boy?
Here's what I say:

-A boy is walking down the hallway, hunched over. He doesn't have a lot of self-confidence, so he tries to hide himself.
-His dark hair is tangled in a wild mess. He doesn't care much for grooming.
-his pale skin looks even paler underneath the fluorescent lights. Perhaps he doesn't go out much, which implies that he may be a very lonely kid.
-He wears jeans that are two sizes too big, and a sweatshirt that is fraying on the edges. Maybe these clothes are hand-me-downs, because perhaps he can't afford his own clothing.

Get it? Got it? Good(:

Step Two: Speech.


Dialogue is a major step in making someone feel real. What you say is what is in your heart. So the first important thing is: listen. If you're in the cafeteria of school, eavesdrop on some kid's conversations, or pay close attention to your own. What are some often used phrases? How are the kids saying them? What do they do while talking to friends? Do they swear?
The key to writing is understanding. You have to get why someone would say something.

What I like to do while writing dialogue is imagine that I'm the person speaking. How would I respond to the question? For example, if I were Calista, what would I say in response to Melodie's question? Basically, I'm having a conversation with myself :S but I think it really, really helps to put yourself into your character's perspective.

And honestly? No one actually talks like "OMG did you see him? WTF are you doing?" NO ONE SPEAKS IN TEXT LINGO. Okay, so I get it. You want to show that these girls are stupid, ditzy, and annoying. But I beg you, DO NOT USE THIS. I hate it. Where I go to school? No one uses text lingo. It just sounds...stupid. I may have used it in WSF but I'm probably going to change it when (if) I edit it, because it's so STUPID. Want to show how someone is ditzy? Rather than using text lingo, just use their dialogue. Maybe they ask a stupid question. Maybe they say something dumb. You know?

I'm gonna stop here because I'm getting lazy. I'll continue on later :)

Oh Dear.

My life is truly a mortifying mess.

I'm actually extremely late typing this, because this happened almost three weeks ago.

I haven't had time to blog or much lately--finals week is next week (!) and after that, I'll be done with my freshman year of high school! :D

So I've been studying studying studying studying studying. I've already taken my physics final--that's over and done with, thank goodness! I'm taking my Spanish final in class tomorrow, and I've already taken half of it today. All that's left is History, Math, and English...three of the subjects I struggle most with =\

Anyways. I'm getting off track. What was I saying again?

Oh yeah. My life is mortifying.

So I liked this boy. We are good friends. Then finally I got up the courage to tell him "Hey. I like you."

You know what he did?

He didn't take me seriously.

In fact, you could say he laughed at me, kind of. He thought I was joking and making it all up just to screw around with his brain, and no matter how much I tried, he WOULDN'T. BELIEVE. ME.

I haven't bothered mentioning it to him because...well...I don't know. It's almost the end of school, anyway. It's just a waste of time, right? I may as well not even bother.

Yeah, I'll keep telling myself that.

And maybe,  just maybe...I'll start believe it.

But...probably not.

God, I'm so naive.

I'm sorry if you're reading this and you're bored. My life is boring.

Gah.

Dueces!

--Ivers

Pain....

Ugh. I'm in so much pain....

My stupid body is...well...stupid.
I have this problem where this bacteria or something causes pimple-like things to pop up all over my body, and they get infected, and they hurt.
It sounds gross. It is gross. But most of all...it hurts like a motherflipper!
To make it worse, I have a cut that hurts. It got infected. And it's nasty.
Not gonna say more...

Ah. I've decided that girls are really annoying.
This one girl, in concert choir today, was completely obnoxious. I said something like, "Hey, I think we should work more on learning on the notes than the rhythm, and the rhythm's not quite right, either..."
And she said, "Well, why don't you teach it?"
It was bitchy. Trust me. And she gave me that obnoxiously sweet smile that was just so fake and annoying.
Then her and her little friend--who I don't really like either--were being immature and so damn annoying.

The problem? She's friends with my best friend.
She's supposedly friends with me, but I don't like her.

Ugh.

I hate people.

--Ivers

Boys

I actually don't know what to title this post aha. I kind of just need a venting sesh here.

I'm a major tomboy. Now, I hate referring to myself that way (no particular reason) but it's true. I talk like a guy, I act like a guy...I am one of the guys. That's what I am. "One of the Guys." I'm a boy. A dude. A bro. And don't get me wrong, I love my guy friends and I love who I am. I have fun and I love joking around (a lot).

But...I kind of wish I were still a girl.

See, my guy friends don't really see me as a girl...I'm a dude. They treat me like a dude. I've noticed a difference in how they treat me and how they treat other girls. With me, they poke fun of me all the time, tease me, call me names, push me, shove me...NO IT'S NOT BULLYING (my school is completely whack with all the crazy ass extreme bullying BS they have, but that's only my opinion). It's friendly teasing. They're "mean," you could say.

Then they see a girl and they're all sweet, giving hugs and smiles and telling them how, no, they aren't ugly, yes, that shirt is nice, and yeah, her hair is perfect.

This is literally what it's like:

BOY (to me): "You're fat."
ME: "Gee. Thanks. You're severely underweight and have no muscle whatsoever."
BOY (to another girl): "Don't call yourself fat! You're anything but!"

=_=

And the one, amazing, glorious time my friend recognized me as a girl...well...
ME: "I could kick your ass any day of the week."
BOY #1: "Yeah, well...I can't hit a girl..."
BOY #2: "Come on...it's IVEY...."

Here are just a few other examples...

ME (to Boy #2): "Dude, BOY #1 is gay for you, obviously."
BOY #1: "No, I'm gay for YOU."

BOY: "Ivey, you only hang out with guys. That means you're either a slut or a lesbian. And you act like a guy, talk like a guy, walk like a guy...hell, you even eat like a guy. You aren't interested in guys either. You're obviously a lesbian."

Yes, my life is lovely.

BTW, I don't mean to offend anyone by these things. This is my life and if you don't like it, then leave. :P

Anyway...where was I?

Oh, yes.

So I'm a guy. Half-man. Boyish. Whatever you want to call it. My guy friends see me as One of the Guys. And that'd be all right...if I weren't me. Because it's not all right.
See, I have this horrible habit of crushing on my guy friends. I don't know if I'm confusing friendship attraction to romantic attraction, but...I'd say there are quite a few guys I may or may not harbor feelings for in a more-than-friends way. It's stupid and immature and annoying, but I can't help it. My hormones are at their peak right now, I guess...

I forget the entire reason as to why I started this post in the first place lololololololol.

Well anyways, I guess I'd just really like it if guys looked at me and said, "Oh, look. She's a girl," instead of, "Oh, look, it's Ivey. Let's go make fun of how stupid she is."
My older sister is super duper pretty. Guys like her. She's had quite a few boyfriends and guys are attracted to her.

Guys are attracted to me, too...just in a strictly-friendship way.

I've been friend-zoned.

Ouch.

Ah, well.
And life goes on.

Hope you've enjoyed yet another useless point from yours truly.
Over and out.

--Ivers

Crabs Suck

No, I do not mean literal crabs.

Today was another regatta. It was only Novice kids, but...dude, some of these novices are fucking crazy. Like, legit. I go to--and row with--the public high school I go to, and we're pretty decent for a public school. But these kids, they've been rowing since like September and they're ridiculous.

But that's not the point. The point is, crabs suck.

That's rowing slang for when an oar enters the water the wrong way and gets stuck. Usually it's for like a second, but today I caught like 4 mini ones in a row, then it was really bad...the oar was, like, parallel to the boat, and we had to stop the entire boat, and then start up again. What sucks is that:

a) We were doing O.K at first
b) If it had happened 10 meters before, we would've qualified to start all over again.
c) It's kinda my fault we lost.

That's pretty much what I looked like.

Sigh. We came in dead last, a full 30 seconds behind the 4th boat. lsdfkJ:Dlfkjs;lkfjas;dlkfj. It's so frustrating. My teammates were being really nice because they knew I was beating myself up for it, but honestly, it made it worse.

Gah. Crew.

Behind These Walls: Chapter Thirteen Sneak Peek

                The day I finally recovered was on Christmas.

                It kind of sucked, wasting the first five days of winter break. Jefferson High let out school later than others—on the nineteenth—and we started back up third of January, so it wasn’t as if I had an unlimited time of freedom before school began, along with the stress and work and lack of social life (not that I had one, anyway). So, while all normal kids out there in the world were celebrating because there were no classes, I was lying in bed.

                Well, at least I had plenty of time to finish Macbeth.

               Anyway, so Christmas finally rolled around. I was never a big fan for holidays—being a part of a typical Greek family, my many relatives were invited over to the house for a party. By many, I mean a lot. My mother was the youngest of six kids, and my father had three siblings. Each sibling of my parents were married and had anywhere from three to six kids. Throw in a few grandparents, a few great aunts and uncles, and some second cousins and cousins twice-removed as well, and that meant there were at least forty people coming over. That meant that my parents spent hours in preparation and needed Jake and me to help out as well. The guests would be over at dinner, so that meant that cooking started as early as ten. I hated working and my extended family was freaking loud, so holidays were never my thing, but as soon as my eyes popped open at precisely nine in the morning Christmas day, I was in a surprisingly good mood.

                “Calista! Are you awake now?” Jake’s voice called out to me. He poked his head through the doorway to check up on me, hair still stuck up at all different angles in a messy bed head. “Are you still sick?”

                “Nope!” I said, jumping right out of bed and stretching my aching limbs. My muscles felt tired and sore, as if they hadn’t moved in days (which they hadn’t), but I had a surprising amount of energy. “What’s up?”

                “Mom and Dad need you to run out to buy some stuff.” He held up a sheet of white paper, with several items scribbled on it. I grabbed it from him and scanned it. Plastic cups. Plastic spoons. Plastic forks. Napkins. Butter. Peppers... “That is, only if you’re feeling well enough to.”

                “Tell them I’ll be down in a minute. I just need to get ready, and then I’ll go shopping.”

                Jake nodded. “All right.” As soon as he left, I picked up my phone and turned it on, sending Melodie and Emilia the same messages—can you guys come tonight? I brushed my teeth and washed up, and changed out of my pajamas, throwing on a pair of warm leggings and oversized sweatshirt. With my hair tied into a messy bun, I couldn’t have been less bothered with trying to look nice. That would have to wait till later.

                Already, right as I stepped out of my bedroom, I could hear the clamoring of pots and pans banging into one another, as well as my mother calling out to my dad, “Honey! Where’s the oven mitt?”

                “Good morning,” I said, entering the kitchen. The thick smell of homemade cooking filled the air and made my mouth water.

                “Calista! I need you to—”

                “I know, go shopping. I’m on it.”

                Without another word, I left to hurry out to the car. The only store that was open Christmas day was a huge supermarket that was a quick drive. Just as I was getting in, my phone rang. It was a text from Melodie. Sorry, can’t make it. Hanging out with the family.

                Not long after, while I was scouring the aisles for a bag of white bread, did I receive another text, from a different person but saying basically the same thing. I’m so sorry, but I can’t come! Emilia wrote. My grandparents are coming.

                I sighed. I guess I’ll have to put up with my crazy Greek family alone...

                But it’s funny, because fate—I don’t know what else I’d call it, because I wasn’t quite sure if you’d call it luck—seemed to like to play at the most random times. Even at a stupid supermarket that didn’t have any white bread.

   “Calista? Is that you?”


=End of Preview=


Hmmm. Who do you think it is? Obviously it has to be one of the boys. Which one? :D
Which one should I make it?
Mwahahaha.

Lesson #1: Writer's Block

Hey, guys!

I've decided to do a special few little blog posts here and there, all about writing tips!
I used to have a book titled "Writing Tips" (how creative, right?) on Wattpad, and I used to add on to it every so often.
But...I deleted it :P
So, I'm going to do blog posts instead! How fun is that?!

So here we go! Without further ado, lesson numero uno!

Lesson #1: Writer's Block


Scenario: You're sitting in front of your computer screen. It looks just how you feel: blank. You don't know what to write. Or, maybe, you have something written, and you have no motherflippin' idea how you're going to continue it.


Okay! So, usually people don't start talking about writer's blocks till later, but the thing is, Writer's Blocks can start before you even start writing, so may as well start with it. (Why not?)

The thing is, I've learned there are three different types of Writer's block:

A) You don't know what to write. At all. Everything you're writing is just wrong.
B) You know you should be writing, but instead you end up sitting on the couch, eating potato chips, watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother or Gossip Girl, and...not writing.
C) You're so excited and you have a new story or chapter planned out all in your head. This is going to happen, then this is going to happen. Only problem? You don't know how to start it.

I'll address every single one independently...

Writer's Block Type A: You're stumped.


Let's face it: everything you write--word, phrase, sentence, paragraph--it's just...off. You hate it. You want so hard to pick up the computer and fling it across the room. Now, now. I know it's frustrating, but trust me when I say that it won't help at all. In fact, it'll make things worse, because not only will you have not solved your problem, but now you need to be a new expensive computer.
In order to solve this, you need to take a step back and a inhale some deep breathes. Look at the story from what you have so far. When I say look, I mean really analyze it. Maybe that'll help. But truth be told, it probably won't. So take a break. Bake some cookies. Go on a run (Tip: Exercise always helps get the oxygen flowing! It helps bring your mind into clarity and focus). Walk your dog. Watch reruns of How I Met Your Mother and laugh. Take an hour. A day. A week. Whatever it takes.
Now that you've had a break, do you feel some of the stress lifted off? Yes? You do? Good. Now, take a pencil or pen and write out the first five thoughts you have for the upcoming chapter.

You have it? Now write.

The thing is, these are the kind of things that you, as a writer, will run into all the time. You can't let it stop you. Write something totally bogus and make it work, if you have to. This kind of writer's block is the kind you need to write around. It's a major pain in the butt, but that's the suffering you endure as a writer. Get used to it, or stop writing. Simple as that.

Writer's Block Type B: You're just plain lazy.


Seriously. If you have Type B, why are you reading this right now? You should be writing! I don't care if you need to see your great aunt or if the dog needs a bath. You're being lazy. Go and write. Shut off the Wireless and leave Facebook logged out and just write. I have nothing to say to you if the reason you're not writing is simply 'cause you're lazy.

Writer's Block Type C: You've got too many ideas flowing.

Honestly, I envy you if you have too many ideas. I sometimes don't have enough.
Anyway, what you should do: write the first chapter (or paragraph) of the story/chapter in as many different ways as you can choose. Maybe you want to write a story about a popular girl falling for her nerdy best friend, but because of her reputation, she rejects when he asks her out. How are you going to start it? Maybe you can start it when they're 8 years old, and they've just met on the playground. Or, you could start it with him getting rejected by his so-called best friend. OR...you could start it with him coming back after two years.
Write out as many as you can think. I've always loved writing first chapters. They come the easiest to me (the rest of the writing sucks, hahaha!). Ask a friend to read them and choose the best. Read them to your cat. Post all of them and have your readers vote. I dunno. Just choose one already!

So! There you have it. First little lesson. Well, they're not really lessons so much as they are tips, but...I hope this helps!

Later, alligator!

--Ivers