Why I haven't been blogging as much... (plus a Casually Homicidal snippet) | Olivia J

"Step into a scene and let it drip from your fingers,"

-MJ Bush

I love this blog. Even if very few people read it, I would still probably write for it. I love the content I produce, I love sharing stuff with you, and I love analyzing literature. This blog is a portfolio of me.

And I hate that I haven’t been able to write on it as consistently as I did during high school. I usually only missed one or two blog posts a year.

And then college happened.

I’ve resorted to being able to write one blog post every two weeks, and that’s iffy. I just don’t want to put out subpar content when I truly don’t have the time - or mental energy - to produce quality content.

It sucks, but that's my life right now. And my content on this blog should reflect my life. Don't worry, I'm working on getting blogging back into my weekly schedule. Literary analysis will be few and far between, but then you might be getting more lifestyle posts.

However, there is another reason why I haven't been blogging as much, and it's a much better excuse than busyness.

Casually Homicidal, the current YA Thriller/Contemporary novel I'm writing, is almost done. Yes, you heard that right. I'm almost done. I've only got five chapters left, and then draft one is done.

But really, it's beautiful. I have fallen irrevocably in love with this story and these characters. I was afraid it was never going to happen again, but here we are. Casually Homicidal has taken over my life, and I'm 100% here for it.

Now, there hasn't really been an official synopsis for Casually Homicidal since I'm still perfecting it, and the only info you guys have gotten is over on Instagram (@olivia.j.the.wordshaker) in the form of collages and snippets.

However, there is a little bit more I can share with you, in the form of a short piece about the themes of Casually Homicidal. And some photos of course.

***

So . . . what is Casually Homicidal even about?

Casually Homicidal is about change, and the insane things we do to stop time.

It’s about being so rejected that all you can manage to do is reject other people.

pic creds to Pinterest

It’s about the secrets we keep and what they drive us to do.

It’s about being so incredibly empty that we don’t even realize we’re filling a void.

It’s about small towns and nostalgia and the wilderness of young adulthood.

pic creds to Pinterest

It’s about pain and the people, memories, and experiences that change us.

It’s about accepting the past and facing the future.

It’s about deciding who you really want to be.

pic creds to Pinterest

Casually Homicidal is about two eighteen-year-olds trying to find out where they fit in a world that wants nothing to do with either of them.

Cue the existential crises, road trips, and bloody murder.

***

And a snippet, just because I'm so generous.

***

“Was I right about you, Hendrix?”

“What?”

“Was I right, that you want to leave too? That you feel this terrible, awful stringing feeling inside, like your stomach is made of a ball of yarn and someone’s just pulling and pulling and pulling at it? Except you’re not sure where they’re pulling it, so the spool just grows smaller and smaller, until one day it’s just going to pop out of you Do you feel that way, too?”

Hendrix pauses. His eyes glaze and go far away - he’s thinking. “Yes.”

His voice strikes me, sharp and metallic. He’s lying, I can feel it right in the core of me. People lie to me all the time. I’ve gotten good at discerning it. “You don’t.”

Hendrix swallows audibly. “Yeah, I do.” It comes out more like a question.

My forehead tenses up. I ought to take him at face value - I really should. I sit up and start to walk over towards him, to see if he’s genuine. If he really means anything he’s saying.

But he turns on his heel and walks away from me, towards his side of the bed.

“We should sleep, Arden. It’s almost 2am.”

My chest splinters as I wander back into bed, swallowed by the soft darkness. I’m sleeping in the same bed as Hendrix, but he feels so far away. And the divide is lined with sinkholes and jagged rocks and fearsome creatures on both sides.

It’s not like he felt any closer when we worked together at that Godforsaken frozen yogurt shop. But us being in this together, it feels like we should be.

Granted, the world should be a lot of things.

But we both know it’s not.

***

Love you all. Thanks for supporting what I love.

~The WordShaker

The Vine Across the Wire | Olivia J

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," - Dr. Seuss 

On my way to campus, there is a vine that has crawled up a powerline to drapes across the road along a wire. As the month has passed, I have watched the vine grow lush and green, strong and alive against the late summer heat. And I have watched it die in a brilliant display of color, wilting into leaves that rustle in the autumn wind. 

That vine has been a sort of constant in my life. I watch as it changes whenever I drive past. It makes me smile. And it reminds me that what goes up, must come down. That what grows must eventually die. 

The impermanence of all natural and human things, I think, is actually quite humbling and beautiful. It reminds us that if we don't give life meaning, then no one will give it to us. We are the ones who give life meaning, and you only have one shot to make the most out of every day, every week, every month. 

Everything changes. Welcome to life. If nothing's changing in your life, are you really living it? That vine wasn't destined to stay across that wire forever.

An abundance of things have been changing in my life. And if you know me, then you know that change and I don't get along. 

But with all bad changes, some good ones always open up. With the loss of a friend, I have gained more. Where theater used to fill my hours, I've been working at a job I love.  

Things are nostalgic these days. Casually Homicidal - my WIP - is coming along slowly but surely. I'm seeing old friends, finding out who's going to stick around. I'm learning to be independent, to be not just my own whole person but my own whole person who can also do her laundry and grocery shop. 

I'm moving forward by looking back. By seeing where I always catch coffee with him. By seeing the glow of Friday night lights on the horizon that will always remind me of the two of you. By laughing at the time my friend and I sought out the stray cats in the back of our local DQ because we're just that passionate about cats. All of the places that remind me of my firsts. All of the cornfields that remind me of my grandfather. All of the trees that remind me of adventure. 

So I think I can add the vine across the wire to my list that makes this old soul nostalgic. 

But I guess being nostalgic means that I've loved something so much for it to still follow me like a friendly shadow. 

~The WordShaker

On College | Olivia J

"Nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word," -Catherine Drinker Bowen

So. My first (full) semester of college starts in a little over a week. I would say that I'm scared, but I'm not. It's just community college.

I'm much more apprehensive about going to SCAD because it's just become so real. And along with that realization, the idea that that 'living in a cramped apartment eating Ramen noodles 24/7' has become even more real. College, am I right? *cries in student debt*

I really am looking forward to community college. For the first time in six years, I'm going to school again with my best friend. One of my college professors is also a self-published author. 

SCAD is less of a dream, and more of a reality. But the problem is that reality still seems so unattainable. My world is now just a ticking time bomb, both here in my home state and as a student, safely cushioned in the world of classrooms. 

For the first time, I'm reconsidering my life. Is this really what I want to do? Is all of this really worth it?

Fortunately, these answers have all been 'yes', but is 'yes' enough? Is drive enough to push me through the intense curriculum? Is passion enough to pay tens of thousands of dollars? Is writing worth this one life I have? Will I regret not getting a more 'sensible' degree?

To these other questions though, all I have to rely on is faith. The faith that God has taken me this far, and that he'll continue to take me even further. Believing until I see it, and believing even when I don't see it for a long, long time. 

I'm not sure this post has a point, other than to update you all on where I am. Also to remind you that faith can carry you through the most insane and unbelievable of circumstances. He is forever faithful. 

~The WordShaker

I don't want to be here. | Olivia J

"One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple," -Jack Kerouac

A really bad poem about wanting to leave for college. Enjoy as best you can. 

~

I don't want to be here.

Stuck in this place

 where dreams come to die.

Stuck in the place

 where people come to settle. 

I don't want

my pieces to settle 

in the bones of 

someone else's life. 

The lines that separate us

are sprawling suburban lawns

and the ones that cleave status. 

The places I found myself

were somewhere else. 

Somewhere far from 

the mundane 

the ordinary

the stereotype. 

I don't want to be here

where the stars flicker out at 5pm

where everyone pretends they're different

where what I do is a novelty.

I want to be somewhere

where the city never sleeps

where my people are

where adventure and life springs at the corners. 

I want to be somewhere

where my strings

sever like autumn leaves

where my roots are exposed

like the breathings of my heart

where each new day

brings a new face

where I can forget

the person I was

where I can forget

the person you think I am. 

This place would be beautiful

colorful

lively

passionate

hard

soft

new

old

everything

in between. 

This place would be

everything

my home

cannot be.

I have overstayed my welcome.

My soul has traversed on

while my body remains here

stuck in an all-to-familiar place. 

I dream of a place

where my eyes are painted in color

where the streets are paved in gold

where the city bleeds words

where I can find my place

outside of nowhere. 

And this place

it would be me

really

truly

me. 

~

This would probably be better as a slam poetry video but I don't know how to do slam poetry or make a good video so. 

Oh well.  

~The WordShaker

This isn't a real blog post. | Olivia J

"A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit," -Richard Bach 

7:55pm. Haven't written a blog post yet. 

Cutting all of the saccharine junk, I'm at a blogger's block. Is that a thing? Regardless, I've barely been able to focus on my novel writing, much less crank out quality blog posts. 

Which is why this isn't a blog post. 

Well, maybe not a quality one. 

In order to fill the space - and to trick you all into thinking that this is a legitimate blog post -  I'll be sharing some of the things that might make it onto above-the-fold headlines if my life was a newspaper. 

Which, unfortunately, it's not. 

TEEN AUTHOR CAN'T STOP COMPARING HERSELF TO OTHERS - CHAOS ENSUES

AP ART STUDENT WANTS TO GIVE UP, BUT SUPERSTAR GRANDPA WON'T LET HER

MERSISTER DONS BLUE WIG: WANTS TO CHANGE NAME AND MOVE TO CANADA

BREAKING! DOCTORS DISCOVER THAT TEA IS THE ULTIMATE CURE-ALL

Ok, but in all seriousness, I've pretty much been having a crisis ever since my book was released. My life has been a slew of comparing myself to other teen authors, not feeling good enough, creating, deleting, and recreating. And among an endless cycle of things I have to do. 

But above all, I can't wait to get to Atlanta and do whatever the hell I want. 

~The WordShaker

Smells Like Teen Spirit | Olivia J

"Writing is really a way of thinking - not just feeling but thinking about things that are desperate, unresolved, mysterious, problematic, or just sweet," -Toni Morisson

Black with a touch of yellow, like the mustard on a grilled hot dog. Unless you're one of those heathens who drowns all their food in condiments. Four little letters that mean everything to my future. 

New books and old books have a different smell, and I can't tell you which one I like better. Minimum wage can add up fast. 

White like sunscreen, black like the lane lines of a pool. White like a screen, black like text. Gray like a hodgepodge of all of the above. 

Oily pigment ground into my skin, making the whorls blue and purple and green. Audio books and sweet tea can't cure even the worst artist's block. 

Smells like being stupid for the memory, for the photo. 
Smells like ambition and the cool of a summer night. 
Smells like relapses and feelings that don't make sense.
Smells like sugar and dog days and evanescence. 

Smells like teen spirit. 

~The WordShaker

An Update on School | Olivia J

"Books are a uniquely portable magic," -Stephen King

School has been . . . fair. In case you weren't aware, I'm employing a very different kind of schooling for my last two year of high school. Read about it here. 

While it's been definitely better than my previous immersive experience in high school, it still has it's pitfalls. 

I can't relate to anyone. I am taking the road less traveled.

College is f*cking scary. No need to say more. 

It's overwhelming, because all of the pressure to get it done is all on me. 

It's new and it's different, and we've already established that I hate that. 

But, still, I've realized is that there's a reason for all of this madness. That I won't fail, because if God believes I can do it, if this is all God-ordained, then it will all work out. 

~

That shitfest was mostly for future reference and to make me feel better. 

I regret nothing. 

~The WordShaker

The Last Half of High School | Olivia J

"It's not what you write, it's the way you write it," -Jack Kerouac

*Note: I censor because I want to keep the little children safe. Reminder, these are my feelings, messy and dirty as they are, and I'm not going to entirely censor my blog because it's my blog. 

Now that summer school is over, actual school is right around the bend. (Hell, that sounds awful.) And I don't know that I've ever been more scared to go back to school in my life. 

Back in May, I made the decision to be partially homeschooled for the last two years of my high school career. This meant that I would take some classes at the high school but take some at home, even some at the community college. 

This f***ing scares me. 

I really don't like to use this word on my blog, since a lot of people I know read my blog, but truthfully, there's no other four words I could string together to portray how f***ing scared I am of the 2016-2017 school year. 

Not only is it most generally the toughest (hello, ACT), but it's so different. Usually, I'm scared of going back to school because I dread it. Because literally nothing stresses me out more than going to school, and all that that entails. 

However, this year, it's all so different. I'm taking a college class in my junior year of high school. Holy s**t. I'm going to be so young and so new and so different and maybe even so dumb because, even though I tested into it, they're all high school graduates. 

I'm worried that it's going to alienate me. I'm worried that, even though I'm taking three high school classes, it will still make me even more different than everyone else. I'm worried that I'll drift from my amazing (yet few) friends. I'm afraid people are going to criticize me for my choice, even if that choice is best for me. 

I'm so afraid. I'm not afraid because it's bad, but I'm afraid because it's different. 

And I don't like different. 

Love, your extremely conflicted high school student,

~The WordShaker

Summer Classes, Novel Troubles, and Finding Myself (An Update)

"I write to discover what I know," -Flannery O'Conner

I feel like it's definitely been a hot minute since I've updated you readers on my life (since you obviously care so much and that's why you read my blog). So I thought I might get some things off of my chest. 

I went on a college visit in the beginning of this month to SCAD (the Savannah College of Art and Design), and I hate to say that I fell in love with it. It's writing program was exactly what I was looking for, and Atlanta and Savannah are beautiful art hubs. The atmosphere and attitude fit right with me, and I was entirely enraptured by the South and the college. 

me at the atlanta campus

It also scared the living daylights out of me. 9+ hours away from home, away from anything remotely familiar, all coming in less than 2 years. And I have to grab onto the coarse rope of the fact that God's got it all under control.

I'm only writing this so I can later believe it. 

~

I am also taking a summer class. Not for remedial purposes, but because I hate myself. 

No really, I just want to get ahead and get the required classes out of the way. While I've got some quirky boys I sit next to, it's not fun. Or, as fun as American government can be. 

Here's me having some great fun at summer school!

But hell, God put me in this class, told me to take this class for a reason. I'm just still struggling to find out what that is. 

~

As usual, I'm having novel troubles. I found myself stuck, listening to the wrong voices, the voices of my own self doubt, of my critical beta-readers - which, I know, that's what they're for - but I was letting that cloud my judgement. I was letting what they think influence the way I was thinking about my story. 

I had to disconnect. I had to stop the beta process, and take a few steps back. Reevaluate. And eventually, I got my groove back. Partially this was because of long driving hours to Georgia and also because of an amazing book I read, called The Distance Between Lost and Found by Kathryn Holmes, which inspired me to get back at it. 

And I found it again. I found my undying love for the story, and that's what's making it gold again. Not the advice from disconnected audience members, or critical mentors, but from what the story had weaved itself into, and what I wanted for it. 

And some nights, I still think that my story is absolute shit and that there's no amount of editing or rewriting that I could do to fix it, I just remember, I just hold true to what it's really about. 

And that's telling a good story. 

The beta process will start up again, but with different people and via a different method. And this time, I'll be prepared. 

And I'll keep persevering. 

~

I guess that feels better. I just needed to be real with you guys and stop posting such pre-planned and formal stuff. A swirl of other things have been going on in my life, and I just needed to talk about the things I could discuss here. God bless, and keep your eyes focused heavenward. 

Keep it real, WordShakers. 

~The WordShaker