Reasons I write what I do

People sometimes ask me why I write the stories I write. You know, the young adult stories about death, mental illness, violence, depression...other than just saying, the stories intrigue me, I've been trying to dig deep and come up with a  more, um, valid reason. Maybe valid isn't the right word.

Intrinsic?

Here are some things I've come up with.

• I'm drawn to sad songs.
• I like to write characters with flaws.
• I'm around teenagers all the time.
• At one time or another I've known most the people in my stories.
• At one time or another I have been certain characters in my stories.
• Stories of unrequited love break my heart in a profound way.
• I write better when I'm in a deeply emotional state.

I think mostly I remember how I felt as a teenager and how all my problems seemed like the end of the world and I believe I still have the ability to convey that emotion, because in some way, part of me is still there, that girl who sometimes felt abandon, who made bad choices, who struggled with peer pressure, who faced things in life that at times made her want to give up, yet she somehow made it through. Yes, she still lives inside me and helps me tell my stories.

Some friends and me back in the day (circa 1986). I'm on the right.

Sigh: Death, and the Why's, and the Media

Another massacre. 

I don't even know what to say about it really. I'm almost speechless. What is there to say? All I can ask is why? Especially when, yet again, the death of a child is involved. If you're so angry and unhappy with the world, just blow your own brains out and let everyone else go on in this miserable world.

Why?

This is why I don't read or watch the news. I almost don't want to know about these tragedies. Ignorance is bliss, right? I didn't know anyone there, but I knew people who knew people there. Who were waiting for calls. Ugh.

And the media. They only perpetuate things. They only give these murderers what they want. You know what I want? This is what I want. I want the families of the dead to be notified. Then I want the dead to be named on television so that everyone else with family there knows it wasn't theirs, then I want to see no more of it. Why? Because that's what these killers want. They do it for attention. Maybe if we stop giving these depraved, crazy, sociopaths all this attention they would stop. They would stop killing children, and innocent bystanders, and people just out for a night at the movies, and people just going about their normal routines trying to make a living for their families, and the people who end up trying to save them.

Monkey Madness Monday

Sometimes it is so hard to pick a monkey pic.  There are so many cute ones out there.

So, I decided on an impromptu trip to the ocean to gets some much needed R & R and some writing done.

I left on Saturday, the weather was perfect for the drive, blue clear skies, sun shining down on my hamster mobile.

I sang at the top of my lungs to the radio the whole way down, sunroof open, driving a little faster than I should have.

I arrived around 2:00 pm, and after debating fun vs. work, decided to get right in on the writing.  I accomplished a few things in the hours I wrote.  I cut about 3oo words from the novel, went through pages and pages of research, and got some words in.  The word count doesn't really reflect the work that was done, but I did put a lot of time into it. 

The novel took a turn I didn't expect, and now I find myself doing a lot of research on teen psych facilities.  It's interesting for sure, but also very sad that teens find no recourse than to turn to violence, self harm, addictions, and eating disorders to get them through the day, landing them in these kinds of places.  I expected someone like my main character to perhaps spend a few days in a place like this, but come to find out the average time for someone like her is about four months.  Sad indeed.

Anyway, the day I got here was perfect, I worked, got a little sun, won money at the casino, took myself to dinner, and watched True Grit (I loves me some Coen brothers films).

Day two was mostly writing and research with a shopping trip in the middle.  Birthday presents, gummy butterflies and salt water taffy, and monkey candle holders.  I closed up shop around 4:00 pm, bbq'd myself a Gorgonzola burger and made homemade fries, then watched an SVU marathon into the night.

Here I am today.  Cleaning the place up, catching up on email and facebook, then back to writing for a couple hours before heading home.

A perfect quiet weekend.  I wanted to catch up on some other stuff too, video, blog posts, reading, but was immersed in my novel to do anything other than write (and the fun stuff).

Happy Monkey Madness Monday to you all, I hope you have a productive and fulfilling week.

Peace out,

Megan

I have already failed

I missed my writing Wednesday post.  So you're getting to for one again.  Today you'll get writing, and Thought Provoking Thursday, and I will tie them together in a neat little bow.

Here is a snippet from my current WIP (work in progress for you lay people), Taking Zoey.

"I had to find a way out, otherwise I was fairly certain that one day they would find my bones along the bank of a river, or deep in a forest. A hiker or a fisherman would come across an arm bone, maybe a skull, and I wouldn’t become the photo journalist I dreamed of, I’d never be a wife, a mother. I’d be just another statistic. Another girl in the wrong place at the wrong time."

As far as thought provoking, I began writing this story because of an article I read in the paper.  The bones of a young Australian girl, whose name I believe was Zahara, were found along a river bank.  I started thinking how scared someone would be if they were abducted.  How, if they were held somewhere for awhile, they would be able to cope with the situation.  If you were locked in a room for a long period time, surely you would just think of 1) means of escape 2) all the people and events that have impacted your life.


So, Taking Zoey is a violent and frightening story, but it's also very introspective.  We learn about Zoey, her friends and family, through her thoughts and memories.  


Thanks for reading,
~Megan