As Salaam Wa Alaikum!!!

I would’ve blogged yesterday, but it was a Sunday, and every Sunday, my dad gets into this weird Cleaning Nazi mood where everything suddenly has to be spotless and in order. That’s not a bad thing at all. Lord knows I need that kind of reminder every now and then, or else my room would probably look like a pigsty.

ANYWAYS THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANT TO TALK ABOUT!

………

As some of you already know, I’m writing a novel. (For those of you who didn’t, SUPRISE! :D) I’ve been writing and rewriting this novel for two years now because I’ve strived to avoid something that I cannot stand in a story: lack. of. personality.

I’ve recently read a story about a girl who was gorgeous and and guy that was really hot.

……And that was pretty much it. Oh, and they lusted over each other.

But that seems to be a disturbing growing trend in YA novel nowadays. And I do believe it has much to do with the popularity of the Twilight series. Particularly with the Edward Cullen character.

The most outstanding ‘personality’ trait of Edward Cullen is his hotness. He’s freakin’ gorgeous and pretty much perfect as far as looks go and we know this oh, so well because it’s mentioned at least 643 times in each of the Twilight novels. But what if we stripped away the good looks? What if Edward looked a lot more like Quasimodo?. Then all you have left is an obsessive, depressed, quad-polar, deceiving, controlling, manipulative ‘vampire’ who is pretty durn fugly. He has no positive personality. His good looks is all he has. Yet, Smeyer is making millions off this silly, uninspired character. So when books like Twilight are cashing in the big bucks and underground novels that are probably 20 times better written and have characters with actual, memorable personalities are being left in the dust, it’s no wonder that some authors hoping to make it big are turning to the formula: “Hotness = Good”

BING BING!!! REALITY CHECK! “Hotness = BORING!”

Who cares if a character looks good? Who honestly cares for a “chiseled” chin or rock hard abs? Will chiseled chins save you in a gunfight? NO! Will chiseled chins make up for the sun on a rainy day? Sure, they’re nice to look at, but NO! Can chiseled chins save a baby from a burning fire? NOOO!! Will chiseled chins save you from an erupting volcano? NO! Will chiseled chins change the world for the better? NO!!

But say is a character is charming. A smooth talker. Manipulative. Clever. Then maybe that character could even PREVENT the gun fight from happening, or talk his or her way out of harms way.

Say a character is bubbly. Humourous. Imaginative. Optimistic. Then they could probably make anyone smile even in the dreariest weather.

Say a character is self-sacrificing. Brave. Heroic. They would be the ones to risk their lives to save that baby.

Say a character is inspiring. Courageous. Motivated. Righteous. If anyone, they be the ones to change the world for the better.

I think pretty much anyone is screwed from an erupting volcano. Unless a character has the right kind of cleverness to avoid even that.

But it’s these kind of traits that people find interesting because it’s these kinds of traits that’ll affect the way characters go about things. And they don’t all have to be positive one. (That’s when you’ve got yourself a Mary-Sue) which is another thing I hate about these common bland but beautiful characters. They have no outstanding flaws in them. They always do and say the right things. But we all know that in reality, that you can be a good person but selfish, too. You can be a good person, but bossy, too. You can be a good person, but stubborn, too. You can be a good person, but cowardly, too. You can be a good person, and not be perfect.

I guess I share this with you today because it’s something I, myself, strive to remember. I strive to make my characters stubborn, selfish, cowardly, lazy, mean, teasing and every bad thing we all, as humans, tend to be every now on then and not focus so much on making them have good traits. I’m still struggling. My characters are no where near perfect (in the flawed sense. Lawls, does that make sense?) but the more I get to know them, I believe the better I’m developing their personalities.

Soooo, today I share with you chapter one of my story! Hope you enjoy and don’t be afraid to critise! ^_^
Oh, and Jenny, go ahead and go all grammar nazi on me. :O

In other news: My family watched Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and I cried when Dumbledore died…AGAIN.

Chapter One

I had always been suspicious of them, you know. Always always always. Though it was nothing so blatantly obvious. Only that subtle shift in the air you feel when you know something important is being hidden from you, only no one plans on telling you what it is. So I played dumb. I didn’t go around hassling Papa or Momma for information on whatever the big secret was because not only is that annoying (*cough* Froggie), but I was sure I’d find out soon enough. And boy, oh, boy I just had to be right.

I shove Annel’s slobbering, sobbing self off my lap because I figured there was no time for crying anymore being that I’m on a mission now. No use for it either, because this is one thing Papa seems really set on and no amount of boo-hooing is going to change it.

I slide the lid off the trunk at the foot of our bed and already Froggie gets all alert and excited.

“Where you going?” She sniffs loudly.

I dig through Froggie’s impossible mess of old dolls, toy horses, and stuffed frogs that I’ve sewn for her over the years, being that she has this weird fixation with frogs (Hence her nickname, Froggie). Her real name is Anneli, but I’ve been calling her Froggie ever since she was a tiny thing, being she’s always asking me to fetch frogs for her from the pond in our backyard. Momma hates the nickname and thinks I’m teasing her whenever I say it, only I’m not and Anneli loves it and that’s all that matters.

Finally, with half the junk cleared out, I pull out my secret boots. Secret because Momma and Papa doesn’t know how I really got them. I told them a big lie that I don’t even remember and they got so sick and tired of trying to dig the truth out of me, they finally just gave up and let me keep them.

You see, they used to belong to a boy that was in love with me like a fool. At least, that’s what he told me when he handed me the boots. I never understood why he claimed to be in love with me and all, being that we live some roads away from each other and only see each other when we both happen to be down at the creek. I’d always remember him because he changed his name every time I asked for it. Anyhow, he gave me those boots as an engagement present and said that I was going to his guardian angel wife. Naturally, I told him that it was a ring he’s suppose to be giving me so I didn’t have to marry the fool, but he argued back, going on about how the boots were all that he could afford and so I still had to marry him because it’s the thought that counts.

I didn’t really much care or worry what his reasonings for our engagement were, being that Papa wasn’t going to let me go so easily anyway. I was just excited about getting free boots!

But one day, out of the blue, that fool decided that he just hated me to the core and demanded that I give him those boots back. Only I laughed in his face but he said he was serious, so I told him I wasn’t going to give those boots up so he kicked the creek water hard so I’d get all soaking wet and then he told me he was going to get his own father to come teach me a lesson and get those boots back. Only I didn’t believe him being that he’s deathly afraid of his father. He told me so himself.

I don’t know why he got in such a hissy fit over those boots anyway being that they were never his to begin with. He told me later that he stole them from his brother who loses boots so much anyway, that his family has to buy him a pair every month.

So we stopped seeing to each other after that big dramatic incident. Or, at least, we stopped talking to each other, because I’d still see him the in the woods sometimes walking down toward the creek and I only to turn around as soon as he spotted me.

That happened a couple of years ago, and these boots are falling apart now, but they still fit pretty well. They only pinch a little. And I still keep them because I’ve still got use for them, and, well, because I kind of miss seeing that loved-crazed fool and saying no whenever he begged me to kiss his cheek. These boots are the only thing that I have to remind me of him.

“I’m going to find Kaisa.” I hadn‘t planned on seeing her at all today, so I‘m leaving a lot later than usual and I‘m going to have to really hurry if I wanna make it back in time for dinner. Froggie pouts our her bottom lip, looking like a movie star stuck in a sappy love story. She’s always wanting to go sneak away with me which is ironic being that I usually leave during the evening and Froggie hates it when it’s getting dark. I always tell her no because first of all, I don’t want her getting in trouble in case I get caught. Not that it’s never happened before, but I usually get off easy because Papa just trusts me that much and Momma’s only concerned about Froggie following in my footsteps. Second of all, I don’t feel like babysitting Froggie. Especially not after the news.

“Can’t I go with you just this once?” She’s practically on her knees.

“You’ll get bored sick, Froggie!” I hiss, though I know it’s far from the truth because Froggie can make a game out of dirt. Froggie knows it’s a lie, too, but I shut out her insistence and start to climb out the window. That brat throws a toy horse at me and it hits my fingers, so I nearly fall. I survive, however, and make it to the ground where I take off running toward Kaisa and I’s tree. But not before I pick up a stick and fling it through our window hoping it hits Froggie.

I wish I could say that I met Kaisa a couple of years ago, because then that would mean that I’ve known her for just as long. Alas, I’ve only known for almost a year now, but that didn’t stop her from becoming my very best friend. The first time I ever saw her, to be quite frankly honest, I thought she was a boy what with her butchered dark red hair and her aggressive walk. She was practically stomping through the snow-coated forest and straight toward my house. I was hiding behind a tree, thinking maybe she was a friend of Momma and Papa only that didn’t make much sense, being that she was only thirteen.

Soon she caught sight of my glaring at her and yelled the words,

“YOU!”

I still stood behind the tree from her because I was a little scared of her, to be honest. I thought maybe she was actually an elf who got lost and I didn’t know how to deal with elves.

“YOU! Come out from behind there. I see you!” She smiled wide and crooked.

I was just about to run away when my gut told me not to bother trying because I had a feeling that she was a faster runner and would catch me with no problem at all. So I just said the only thing I could think of at that moment.

“Whaddaya doing here?”

And that’s when she frowned.

“What? Do these woods belong to you?” She said, sounding let down.

“Well, no. I guess. They’re anyone’s woods as far as I know.”

“Really?” I shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” I was getting annoyed mostly because I was so confused. She just flashed that big smile and said,

“Faaaaaantastic!” I found out that she was much taller than me quick, being that she got right in my face and asked me what I was doing in the woods and I saw no harm in just telling her the truth, which was finding a tree to climb.

“Really? Me, too!”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I said it.”

“So? What difference does it make? Let’s go find a tree!” And after a little hesitation, I decided that that was fine. So we found a tree together and started to climb. The climbing got dangerous quick, though, because she was always wanting to go a branch higher than me and, well, I wanted to go a branch higher than her. And then the pushing and the shoving and the pulling broke out as we tried to knock each other off that big, old tree until, finally, we reach as high as we could go before the branches began to snap under our weight.

“We both win!” She said, and then she started asking all these random personal questions like what kind of undergarments did I have on. Only I told her she’d better mind her own business. And I guess you can say that we’d been friends ever since. Almost everyday we try to meet each other at that same tree. We know which one is ours because Kaisa tied red pair of stockings around one of the middle branches. I’ve asked what she does whenever I don’t show up, because I just go home if she isn’t there, and she told me that she finds ways to entertain herself and that’s all.

Judging by the scabs and scraps she’s got all over her, I say climbing and falling out of trees is exactly was she does.
I reach our tree and all the sudden an apple comes crashing down, just brushing my shoulder.

“Lunch!” I hear Kaisa caw from above. If this was any other day, I might’ve laughed it off like it was nothing, but I just feel annoyed. I’ve climbed halfway up the tree, right where the red stocking’s tied, when she starts dropping random debris on me and I’m climbing and I’m standing it until I just snap and scream at the top of my lungs.

“STOP!” …and she does.

But not only does she stop, but she starts to cry just as I knew she would. Kaisa has a pretty big bark, but nothing gets her crying faster than when someone barks back. And this is no good because how can I tell her the news with her mad and sniffing and wiping up those tears? By the time I reach her, her arms are crossed and her freckled cheeks are wet.
“Hey, Kaisa…” I say and get no response, just as I knew, “I’ve got some news to tell you. It’s really important. And kind of sad. That’s why I yelled ‘cause I’m feeling so upset.”

Kaisa’s a sucker for bad news most of the time. It takes her a while to finally suck it up and look at me, but finally, she asks.

“What?” And I tell her.

“I’m moving.”