Why I Have ALL OF THE FEELS for THE ARCHIVED

Hello, Everyone,

I started blogging again. I know. It's, like, a miracle. I just finished reading Victoria Schwab's THE ARCHIVED and was suddenly inspired to start talking about books again. So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

A friend of mine knows me and how much I love talking. She said to me recently, "Do you blog about all this STUFF you talk to me about?" By STUFF she meant literary jargon. I answered honestly with a, "not anymore." She asked me why. "Why don't you? You're good at it." I told her I didn't know, but that was a lie. Every time I say that, I'm lying through my freaking teeth.

I do know why I don't talk about this STUFF anymore. Why I don't talk about much of anything anymore. Why I've gone silent. Since I've come to college it's become ever so clear that when I speak, when I try to talk about things, other people aren't understanding what it is I'm saying. Not literally and not with the passion or the intrigue with which I understand them.

I've met a lot of smart people here--- brilliant people--- who want to talk politics. Talk social justice issues. Talk math, science, computers, art. Talk about recycling and how jank it is that California hasn't legalized gay marriage or marijuana. And I don't hear them either. It's not that I don't care about these people--- these brilliant people--- or the things they care about, or anything other than books, books, BOOKS! But I don't have the same passion for those issues. I used to be afraid to admit that. A big part of me still is. I'm afraid that I'm not intelligent enough to speak my mind. That it doesn't count, doesn't matter, that I read a book and really, really, really think you should read it, too. 

I have ALL OF THE FEELS for Victoria Schwab's THE ARCHIVED right now because I love Victoria Schwab. My official review will go up tomorrow on Elsewhere but here is the unofficial reason--- the truth--- of why I can't stop recommending this book enough.

This book taught me it's okay to feel. To need. To want. To have something to say AND SAY IT. Taught me that the past is past and present's present. That it's so easy to forget, that we're only made up of what we remember. That I should start making memories. Archiving myself. Making my own History. It made me tingle with anticipation for the future. Made me want to talk my freaking head off.

I am intelligent. I have a mind and things on it. And a big reason I love this novel is because I love the author. She always knows what to say AND how to say it.

My Lit Professor would kill me for admitting this because this is EXACTLY the sort of thing Wimsatt and Beardsley would have raged about--- this is EXACTLY what they knew I'd say and it's WHY we should read novels as if the author weren't a factor--- as if he didn't exist.

But here it is:

I loved THE ARCHIVED EVEN MORE because I love Victoria Schwab. Love what she's about. Love her mind. Love her thoughts. Love how she processes the world. Love that it reflects my own thoughts, my own process, but translates into beautiful, creative people and places, translates into The Narrows and The Archived and into Owen, Lindsey, Mackenzie. I've read reviews that say Schwab's writing is slow, but I've learned it's deliberate. I've learned to be patient, to wait, to get over my need for kissing and answers and to-the-point convos and noise and I've learned to appreciate her silence.

Because what Schwab doesn't say is just as important as what she does. And what she does say makes me FEEL when she finally says it. And the way she goes about saying it makes me feel ALL OF THE FEELS because I have to be patient. And I feel everything because I love, love, love this author for being a wonderful--- a beautiful--- person.

Let me just say one last thing: I cried when I read the Acknowledgements. I managed to hold on through all the pain, tension, darkness, action, STUFF that was this novel. But when I read those acknowledgements, y'all, I CRIED. Because I didn't care one bit what Wimsatt and Beardsley or freaking Derrida or my professor would have to say about the "ethics" of how I read this novel. I read those acknowledgements and saw the beauty of the author and realized that the two could never be separated--- not really. And if I loved one, there would be room for the other. So I squeezed. And now I can't recommend this novel enough.

Happy reading,
Deserae
P.S. See you tomorrow on Elsewhere.

The Chapter That Will Ruin Me

If you're a writer, then you understand that writing is different for each individual AND for each individual project. There's no way to gauge which parts will be easy and which will kill you... there's no way to stop yourself from feeling a little angsty at some point in the process (unless you're this guy who just thinks he's freaking awesome and that writing a book is just a piece of apple pie).

I am literally three chapters away from finishing PW. Literally. Three chapters. Away. There is Chapter 13, and Chapter 14, and Chapter 15. And then it's done. I mean--- for realzies.

But THIS?!

THIS will be the death of me.

It's not Chapter 13's fault that it feels impossible. It's mine. It's mine because I KNOW what I have to do. I KNOW that this is just a draft (not the first, but, yeah). I KNOW that I have permission to mess things up. But I'm scared. Terrified, really. 

Usually, endings and I get along really well. I know how I like things to be resolved almost every time I sit down to write a story, and things are no different with PW. The hows, the whys, and the whens are all very clear in my head, but, unfortunately, I'm afraid to put these things down on paper. 

It's not... For once, it's not the fear of messing up that's killing me. This chapter, though, is going to set the tone for everything else that comes afterward and I am afraid that, for this chapter's unique setting and ideals and reveals and needs, I am not doing enough to explore these things. 

I know what you're thinking. "Can't you just fix that in editing?" Of course I could fix it in editing, but I'm not editing right now. I'm writing. And I'm not doing a very good job at it. Do you ever have these moments where you have an idea in mind, and you think it's freaking BRILLIANT, but when someone asks you to explain your vision, you just... can't? Okay. I'm experiencing that. And I'M THE FLIPPING WRITER. 

This... this feeling is ruining me. My confidence, my faith--- everything that I put into PW is fading. And that's why I renamed the chapter from "Eyes on the Prize" to "Everything's Not Lost" because I wanted to remind myself that YES! There is hope for you yet, Deserae.

But...

Here we are. 

It's weird being here because it's taken thirteen chapters to back me into a wall. You guys don't know this because you've only been with me for PW and The Girl Book, but I don't really write sci-fi. PW is my first attempt at something extraordinary, and I thought that it would be a failed attempt because my strength is in dialogue, not really in kick-butt action. 

But even though some things need tweaking, none of the writing I've done for PW completely and totally SUCKED. Not until now, at least. And I'm only three chapters to the end. All I can think of is, are you freaking kidding me?! Really, yo? REALLY?! The good thing about this revelation, though, has me on my toes. I'm ready for Chapter 13 to suck and I'm ready to hear what my Beta thinks can help lessen the sucktitude. And above all, I'm ready to get it written so that all of the fixing, chiseling, and polishing can commence. I know it's going to take all of me to do it, but this is my hope: moving forward will at least give me the momentum to cross the finish line and then cop a U to pick up the pieces I've let behind. 

Wish me luck and please keep me accountable. Bug me on Twitter. Leave nasty comments like, "SOOOOOO, how's the book coming?????" KEEP. ME. SANE. Remind me that draft-suck is not novel-suck. Shower me with good quotes, good music, and good company for the next week or so, and I promise to love you forever.

Deal? Too late. You shook on it.

Hug me, you beautiful people!

Deserae <3

P.S. New Daily Dose is up! I might have to rename those Weekly Doses. Sorry about the inconsistency. Daily Dose is just SO catchy! 

Commenting on Comments

Aria- Thanks! And it's good to see Blogger is working again for you! I'm definitely trying to keep my head above water, but I love that you have faith that I can do it--- having support makes me believe it, too. Haha!  "...and look good doing it...." Well, Darlin'... You know how I do. Lol! :) May the force be with me, huh? Ay dios mio... 

My Roomies

I've been asked by at least 50 different people if I liked my roommates. The answer to that is yes.

But I've also been asked what they're like and the answer to that is a little less clear. Because imagine, if you will, eight very different people. Now put them in an apartment and see how they mesh. For us, it's working out pretty well... for others, not so much.

So I'm going to try to give you my best representation of them through imitation versions of them via pictures of popular characters and/or celebrities. Does that make sense? Well I'm doing it anyway. So without further ado, I give you my roomies. And without further, further ado, here we go.

Emily



I chose blonde Katy Perry to represent Emily because of three things: the spunk, the smile, and the style. Emily's got a very California Girl fashion sense. I love that she rocks dresses and multi-colored shorts. Emily's a cutie--- the pink typeface definitely fits her. Unfortunately, Emily moved out today, but she's always going to be an honorary member of our apartment's family. She's the always smiling, want to party?, let's have fun girl of our suite and she's sweet on top of all of that.

Gabe

Gabe is so much like Julian Smith, it's kind of surreal to me. I've loved Julian Smith for the longest, but now I get to live with his doppleganger. So I'm like, "Yay me!" Gabe is SUCH a character. First of all, he is the only guy I know who can sing every Disney song ever made (no joke. Every one. Ever.) and songs from musicals I can't even name. He's also an artist (although he refuses to admit it) and he's extremely friendly and social. Like Julian, he has a bit of a perfectionist's mentality (if he's going to do something, he's going to do it right), and like my brother in law, he's always trying to figure out the most efficient and/ or cost effective ways to do and get things. In short, Gabe is awesome. And he loves his blue hoodie, too.

Kaitlin

 

 Kaitlin is my roommie. She is Bridget Mendler adorable. I was going to say she was Taylor Swift adorable, but Kaitlin, like Bridget, has a very girl-next-door thing about her which made Bridget win out in the end. Kaitlin is tall and thin and played volleyball and can SING... And she's SUPER smart. And we love the same music (cough, cough, Backstreet Boys, cough). And she loves her friends back home. And she is just amazing. So because she's the blonde of the house (now that Emily is no longer with us), she gets gold as her color of recognition. She's golden, ya'll! GOL-DEN!

Gurshawn

 

 Gurshawn is a real wildcard. When I first met him, I thought he was going to be the most shy, quiet person in the whole entire world. No. And heck no. This guy can dance. This guy can talk. This guy is super sweet and knowledgable. He's travelled. He's from Canada. And when I first saw him, Dev was the first face that came to mind. I know Dev and Shawn are different ethnicities (and Shawn doesn't really LOOK like Dev in a total "oh they could be twins!" way), but there are similarities in the personalities and the way they carry themselves. I admit, Shawn's a little more shy in the way he stands and sits (like he's more reserved, you know?) but do you see that girl on Dev's arm? Yeah. I'm betting anything Gurshawn's going to have a girl like that one day. He's a mack-daddy, yo! (I'm sure I spelled that wrong. A good sign it's time to move on.)

Due

 

Due is the shortest one of the bunch. She's small, Asian, and thin, and I didn't really know any characters that actually fit her personality. But then I thought of Barbara from Suite Life of Zach and Cody (Sophie Oda. Woot!) and Barbara is kind of like Due. Kind of. Due is quiet until you get to know her. And then she's really fun and funny. She's got a great sense of humor, she can cook (from what I know), and she likes to be active in the sense that she'd rather be outside than sitting around the apartment doing nothing. I don't know too much about her, but she's really cool. And her boyfriend brought me Oreos when I was having an extreme cookie craving. So she's the coolest as far as I'm concerned. The. Coolest.

Robbie

 

Robbie (short for Robert) reminds me of Cho from the Mentalist. Not only does he have Tim Kang's serious face down pact, but he also has the arm cross down, too! Robbie looks serious sometimes, but he loves to smile and laugh--- he just needs an excuse to do it. He's always around the apartment (kind of like me). And he's our go-to guy if anything breaks, doesn't work, or if we need things to be done.

Carlos

 

Okay so Adria Grenier isn't my first choice for a Carlos look-alike, but do you see the hair? Now imagine it a little past shoulder-length and a whole lot curlier. THAT is what Carlos (a.k.a. Shaggy) looks like hair-wise. Carlos is the one who comes to get us girls from our late classes. Carlos is the one who takes out the trash. Carlos is the one who is going downtown with me tomorrow to get provisions for our apartment. So basically, Carlos is the man.

Vanessa

 

Again, this wasn't my first choice. But I ended up picking V Hudgens to represent V because she has presence, power, and a certain thing that makes her unique and kind of uncomparable. My Vanessa is strong, she's funny, she loves to laugh, she can cook, and she's very independent. I don't think anyone could be her, and I really love that about her character.

Monday Mayhem #1: Disasters Natural and Otherwise

So last week on Lisi's Blah-g, I was talking to a girl named Deirdre about how she was taking the hurricane. She was keeping me company (God bless her soul) while most of the blah-g gals were at school, and she was telling me that New York didn't get hit as bad as they thought it would--- that they were kind of overprepared because of all of the hype that Irene brought around.

I wanted to talk about how natural disasters made me feel, BUT as ususal, when I start writing, things tend to take an unconventional turn. My first thoughts to share with you this Mundane Monday was going to be to explain my general fear of natural disasters because of how powerless and unprepared I feel when they come around. But, now there's something else I want to talk about. A word that kills.

Hype.

Disasters, like drama, are unavoidable circumstances. They come at times you least expect them to. They can come in low blows or at full-throttle. But sometimes we're lucky enough to see them coming ahead of time. So we prepare according to what we assume is going to happen. We prepare just in case the worst is going to come at its worst.

Assumption leads to devastation, sometimes, though. Today, I assumed something was going to blow out of proportion and ended up being wrong. I prepared for the worst--- I hate having my own name dragged through the mud--- and I tried to stop it early on. But the tables were turned and yes, they were turned against me. But building up to that moment (and now, even after it) was just a bunch of premeditated and now uncontrollable hype. You live and you learn, I suppose.

Is it wrong to stock up for the winter if you know it's coming? Heck no. And is it wrong to have certain things in place in case it storms? Absolutely not. But, in the end, you have to realize that no matter how much you prepare, no matter what you do to try to stop something, the storm will always run its own course. The  storm will always make its own twist in the story. And you've just got to be able to go with it.

How did you deal with a disaster (natural or otherwise) in your own life? I'd love to hear from you in the comments. Until Wednesday with my latest quick-write (prompt courtesy of the amazing Anita)...

Happy Labor Day,
Deserae M.

Today, Yesterday, Tomorrow

TODAY is a Thursday.
YESTERDAY wasn't.
TOMORROW will be Friday. I'm kind of excited.
TODAY I'll be reading.
YESTERDAY I didn't.
TOMORROW I won't be either because I have some writing to do for myself.
TODAY feels amazing.
YESTERDAY was alright.
TOMORROW holds the possibility of being even better than the day that came before it.
TODAY hasn't ended yet.
YESTERDAY has.
TOMORROW hasn't come. I feel like it's avoiding me.
TODAY hasn't been so productive yet.
YESTERDAY wasn't productive at all.
TOMORROW can be whatever I want it to be, but sometimes I wonder if I rely on it being there too much.
TODAY I've been listening to music.
YESTERDAY I hung out with a friend.
TOMORROW promises me nothing except maybes and mysteries.
TODAY is mine.
YESTERDAY was too.
TOMORROW is someones, but isn't guaranteed for us all.
TODAY is like a game of roulette.
YESTERDAY I must have lucked out.
but TOMORROW isn't in the cards for all of us.

Live right today. Love your yesterdays. Long for tomorrow. And do so in order.
Deserae McGlothen
P.S. John 3:16

The Writing Game

It's crazy. I am seventeen years old and caught up in the Writing Game. And seriously Sara Shepard? I think this is more dangerous than anything in which Aria or Sutton ever got involved.

Because despite its misleading title, the Writing Game isn't even a game at all. Yet it's the most competitively played, most psychologically tempermental sport I have ever willingly signed up for.

From the moment you put your pen to paper with the intent to "write a book," insecurity sets in. And I know this because I have virtually been to every writing blog, writing site, writing conference (in LA) and never once have I met an author who claimed total confidence. So from the moment you start (and even before that! When the seed called an idea is planted in your brain!), this little voice works its way into the back of your brain. And it might not become audible until you finish the first chapter, or get your first brain freeze, or hit the 30,000 word mark, or finish the first draft thinking it's perfect to later realize it... wasn't.

It's all part of the game. With insecurity comes self-doubt, and that's when most of us start looking around for all the advice and writerly info we can possibly digest. This part of the game seems to be helpful (and sometimes, really is), but some of the players get stuck in the "what else have you got?" phase. Which results in never finishing that first draft. Never getting it to a decent draft. Never polishing it to near perfection. Never finding the agent that could possibly fall in love with it.

Some take what they learn, though, and they move into the revision phase. Which makes us feel either completely unintelligent for having such sucky first drafts, or completely relieved that we had the chance to fix up the craziness before submitting. Revising tends to take longer. Much, much longer because we want to reach perfection. And some of us get stuck here because the manuscript can't ever be perfect. Because it's "not ready yet." Because other things get in the way. Because we start to wonder if we were meant to be in the pool of people who never will be published, traditionally or otherwise.

And some start to query, the mounds of rejections so discouraging they decide to fold. Or the good news of a new author's new book being so new and fabulous that you feel as if you may as well give in now.

Agh. It gets so weird talking about it like this. Because, in hindsight, writing is just something I want to do. It's not a competition. It's not a game. It's not what we're set up to believe it is. It's got an entire industry behind it, sure, but that's not all it is. Writing is the art of telling a story with ink. It's worth the hard work, the dedication, the blood, sweat, and tears. And if you don't think it is, then don't do it! There's so much more out there for us as human beings with creativity and imagination. Find what's right for you, and just love it.

Okay?
Follow the dreams that your heart longs for most,
Deserae McGlothen

Oooookay...

Online ettiquette... It's a serious thing.

I know it's stupid to think about sometimes, but seriously, how you present yourself online determines how people on the internet see you. Sounds obvious, right? Well, it should be. But sometimes, people don't realize how rude they sound when they say certain things. When you're typing up an opinion, a review, or just a comment, remember that your words are just coming out in black and white. They're representing you without a smile or personality or anything. They're just there. And you're just waiting to see if they've been interpreted correctly or not.

I think maturity helps. When we can acknowledge our faults and shortcomings, it's easier to have a more gentle online persona. But when we don't... when we think that we are coming off as perfect 100% of the time... we're losing sight of the fact that what we've lost a huge percentage of what we meant to say in translation. What we type isn't always what we mean or how we mean it. It is what it is, and we have to pray it depicts the person we want depicted.

I'm pretty secure in my online persona. I think I've got enough of me in it to say that this is really who I am, but I've also left a lot of me out of it so that it remains professional on some level. Yeah. The person typing this is grumpy, frequently moody, and almost always hungry. But I refuse to let the really bad parts of me online because who cares what I'm like when I'm in a bad mood? You want to know what I'm like when I'm sane.

Sometimes, I don't even know who "you" are. Heck, a lot of the time I don't know who "you" are. And that's okay. Because my online persona doesn't care. She just wants to converse and speak her mind and get to know your online persona. But I've got to tell you, some people have really mean online personas, and it's like they can't even see how ugly they are. How do you tell someone, "You're rude," without flat-out saying it? How do you gently give them the nudge-nudge so they know to quit being so much of themselves long enough for you to enjoy their online presence?

It's something I'm struggling with today because some people are vicious. They don't even know who I am and they're vicious. They can't seem to see themselves, but they're vicious! And I, admit, I almost let it get to me, today, but you know what? I'm not vicious. Not in my real-life and not on the internet.

Why should I waste my time bringing someone I don't know down? Why would I try to hurt someone who isn't going to be in my life when I log off? Why would I attack someone who has lived and will live the rest of their lives without ever seeing my face? I wouldn't. I won't. And I never ever have.

But some people do. Some people will continue doing this until they figure out what's hardening their hearts. Because the only reason they're coming after me is because they haven't found "them" yet. And I can't be mad at people who are so confused within themselves that they don't know how to escape their own hardness.

I'm bigger than that, and I hope you'll be too. Make a pledge to be kind to someone online this week!

With love,
Deserae McGlothen

Preservatives

*Quick note: I wrote this post yesterday, but Blogger wouldn't post it. Cross your fingers for luck today.
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One of my sister's friends turned seventeen today, and we were one of the few people who celebrated with her. It got me thinking. About the people I call my friends and the things I value most... And I wondered if two people called me on my birthday, could be as cool with it as she was. If I'm spoiled because, when I turn eighteen, I want everybody and their mama's dialing me up to wish me a happy 1-8.

I realized that I'm not rude or vain or silly or selfish for wanting to be remembered. I'm just... me.

See, I've been this way since I was little. I hung out with my teachers before my peers. To this day, even my first grade teacher remembers me by name. I liked to leave pieces of me behind at my schools. Before I graduated, I stuck a letter under a desk in my Creative Writing class, and am waiting for some curious sould to find it and reply back to me. I think I have a severe case of Memoritis--- a regenerative disease that makes you stronger by keeping you in the lives of others longer.

I want to be remembered. I can't help it. I think that was why I was always fascinated with books. They'd sit on my shelf but every time I opened them, I was plunged back into that world that, if created correctly, stays fresh and preserved, waiting for me to come back to it. Today, I'm writing my own story. It starts with me, now, and, hopefully, will never end.

Adios, Peeps,
Deserae McGlothen

I Forgot to Remember

Agh!

Have you ever been involved in so much at once where you forget to remember the REALLY important stuff?

I forgot something EXTREMELY important, Loves.

Eh. And double eh.

-Deserae McGlothen

New Project Anxiety

My fingers have been itching for this moment, the ''new project.'' It's been a long time coming and I am finally setlling down to get all those ideas in my head out onto a piece of paper. It's harder than it sounds, Loves; it's a multi-hurtle challenge. The concept and those first ideas are round one. Laying them out in a workable first draft, round two. Being able to re-write that first draft into something readable, round three. Giving that last draft some time to rest, and then tackling it again (and maybe again) until it's SOMETHING, the final blow.

I love a project when it's a baby. When it's just a mess of ideas that one day could be something amazing or something someone might want to read if the right words were strung together in the right order. But then actually doing that--- actually writing up that first draft--- is the scariest thing of all. What if I never finish? What if I can't get past page one? What if, after all that work, it's no good? Should I start over? Should I abandon ship? Am I a terrible writer? Should I have gone into dentistry after all?!

Agh. The fear. I get it all the time when I'm typing up that first draft. The ideas didn't need me--- I needed them. They constructed themselves, and I listened attentively like the good little school girl that I am. Then they wanted to be written. Then they needed my help. And now I'm panicked because I, of course, liked doing all of the listening and none of the work. It's scary to be responsible, at that point, for the outcome of the story--- the ideas were awesome, but am I going to blow it when I put in my own two cents?

The first draft intimidates me. I can pour my heart out into this thing and still not be finished. I can fail miserably before I even begin. I can write a draft that I think is brilliant but really isn't and I have to start again from square one. Or it can be brill.

New project angst is, at least, teaching me something: to know what could be, I first have to begin.

Wish me luck, Gang,
Deserae