So, I participated in this event called National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short), which takes place every November, every year. You are supposed to write at least 50,000 words in the adult program, and you can set your word count with the youth program (which is what I did). I set my word count goal to 32,500, and you know what? I completed it! I got 33,062 words by the time I submitted what I had to submit to “win” NaNoWriMo. This youth program really helped me focus writing and as well discover new things about my book/characters that I never thought about before.

Of course, my book isn’t done. I still have a long way to go, but I am confident that I will finish this thing. In the meantime, check out this program at if you want to learn more! It really gives you a challenge that you thought could not have been done.


“Where I’m From” – A Poem

I am from creativity
for I was created in a unique way.
I am from the writer inside me
who likes to spread his wings and fly away.
I am from the music
where my heart drums a song,
with the fingers that pick and strum
and my voice sings along.

I am from the Lamb.
For He sacrificed Himself for me,
with love and blood,
and peace and humility.

I am from Love.
For Love came down
and rescued me.
For Love came down
and set me free.

I came into this world with Love.
And Love come with me when I leave.


This poem is actually my most recent English assignment. We had to read the poem, “Where I’m From,” by George Ella Lyon, and make our own version of that poem.

You Make Beautiful Things

You make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of us, no matter if we are weak or strong. We shine through you, and we live through you. Even after many struggles, after all this pain. Even if we never can find our way. We wonder that sometimes, don’t we? Whenever it feels like we are on a long, endless road. The endless road of pain, struggles, and suffering. We wonder if we can ever find our way; our way through the thorns and spikes that our enemies have laid down on our paths’, forcing us to take routes where we become lost and hope to be found. We wonder if our life can really change from that at all, for the rugged path is all we see, We seem to forget about all the good things that could set us on the right path, even if we try really hard.

But then we remember. We remember that you make beautiful things. Even after everything that has happened, even after everything that we have been through. We remember that with you we can step over the thorns and spikes, we can find our way to the right path, for you do not fail. We remember that you make beautiful things out of the dust where we came from, the dust where you made us from. The dust that shines and created a beautiful life for us. The dust that made us who we are. The dust that lives through all the amazing things you have done. The dust that remembers that you make beautiful things out of us.

All around we see hope. Hope that is springing up from the old earth, hope that destroys the chaos and makes us the beautiful things we are meant to be. But in the chaos there again is pain and struggling, but out of the chaos life is being found in you, where you make beautiful things.

Then again, we remember. You make beautiful things. Things that watch over us and take care of us. You make beautiful things out of the dust. The dust that surrounds us. The dust that began our life. You make beautiful things out of us. The beautiful things that we were meant to be.

Then we boast about you making us new, and are continuing to make us even newer. Newer after all the challenges and hardships. Newer after all the pain and struggle, because through the pain and struggle is where we learn and remember.

Always. Always we will remember. And forever we will remember that you make beautiful things. You make beautiful things out of us.

The Mystery Man in the Blue Car

In the local streets of London there was a man. This man, like any other man in this world, was different. Oh, different in many ways just like the other’s I can tell you, but there was something with this man that made him… well… different. Although nobody noticed it at first, instead of going “home” after his day at work, he would disappear like he was hiding something, just to reappear the next morning for work. When people wanted to go and see him, they would go to his supposed house just to say hello, but they left after they found that he wasn’t there. Of course, he has only lived here for about a month, so maybe he just wrote the address down or something, right?

Well somebody wasn’t so convinced. One day, a fellow employee – Gary – noticed the man’s daily disappearances, and decided to follow this mysterious man after work the following day to see where he goes to. So then comes the next day, and the two men worked like they usually did. When both of their shifts were over, the mysterious man came up to Gary in his brown suit and red bow tie and asked,

“Hey Gary, can you help me bring some stuff down to my car? I have a lot more to carry than I usually do.”

Gary sighs, “Sure I can help John. I got a lot more done today than I thought I did, so I have nothing to carry.”

John smiled, “Thanks man, that will help a lot.”

So, as you probably have guessed, the two men walked down the flight of stairs to the underground garage and up to John’s car. The car was an old blue Mercedes with tinted windows so you couldn’t see the inside. When they reach the vehicle, they pop the trunk and put the stuff in the car, just as you have guessed.  Hey, you in the back, the story isn’t over yet, so sit back down and continue listening please! This is the interesting part.

John thank’s Gary as he walked to his car a few parking spaces down. When Gary starts his car, though, he found that his car battery has died. So Gary pops out of his car, walks over to John and asks,

“Hey can you give me a ride home? My car battery died and I don’t think you have anything to start it up again.”

John looked at him with a little worried look in his face. “Um… I don’t know if I will be able-”

“Please? You’re my only way back to my house. Besides, you pass my house before you get to your’s.”

John sighed, “Alright fine. Don’t freak out about my driving though, please. And don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Yes, of course.” Although the part about being asked not to tell anyone was a little weird.

So John and Gary get in the car, but in all weirdness it didn’t start. Instead, a loud noise that sounded sort of like metal being scratched on metal strings filled the garage (Gary played piano, so he would know), and the blue car just vanished slowly in thin air, never to return again.

Not so boring now, is it?

New Series – What should I Write?

This is a common question I come to every single time I pull up my blog or a Word document so that I can just… you know… write. I usually can write short stories just by looking at something – like a word, phrase, or picture. An idea pops into my head every single time. I then clumsily press my fingers onto the keyboard, throwing the words onto my computer screen. But as I write, I find it harder and harder to keep with the original idea, and eventually I get off course. I lose control of the story and it becomes nothing.
But of course, writing is writing. No matter how stupid it sounds, it comes from my imagination, and crazy can be good at times. But what happens if I want to write something decent? What if I don’t want it to sound stupid or crazy? How do I solve these problems that come to my writing? I know it has nothing to do with Writer’s Block – cause it doesn’t exist. Writer’s Block is just something our minds make up, making us incapable of writing any further. So what should I write? What should I write that can make a difference? Can I write something that can do that?

I am going to make a “series” of blog posts that will pretty much add onto or be related to this one. I need to be more active with my blog, as I haven’t posted much of anything lately.

Penmen Project

So, a few weeks ago I decided to join this project on this other blog, The point of it was to make a story; the owner of the blog started off with two sentences, people sent in paragraphs related to the sentences (which was the first two sentences of the paragraph), and people voted on the best paragraph. After the paragraph is chosen, everyone starts to send in paragraphs again, except that they continue the paragraph that won. Round one finished, and I decided to send in a paragraph for round two. Check out this project, it’s interesting! My part of the story is the second paragraph. Hope you guys like it!

I woke up this morning with a strange feeling. I think I had a lucid dream last night or maybe not. I don’t remember everything exactly but I began my normal morning routine still half asleep; take a piss, feed the cat, make coffee and toast. I sat down to partake in my morning coffee ritual when suddenly a cold sweat came over me, the taste of metal… I ran to the toilet and threw up. Except there was something strange… Something metal floating in the bowl… I stood there staring at it, just floating there in the vomit. Trying to remember what I ate. Trying to remember where I was last night, who I was with. Was the dream really just a dream? Then with a quick swoop I grabbed the metal object and rinsed it in the sink. What the hell was it? How’d it get in my body? Then suddenly jolting me out my trance, the phone rang the same time someone urgently starting banging on the door.

I picked up the phone and looked at the contact. Unknown number. The person banged on the door again. A loud voice came out of nowhere, “Police! Come out with your hands in the air where I can see them!” I panicked. What did I do? Should I run or should I stay? The policeman banged on the door again. I picked up my backpack and started going for the back door. Suddenly, the front door was kicked down and then there was footsteps. No time to find out. I grabbed the handle and ran out the back door. A police officer jumped at me but missed by that much. Leaping over the fence, I started running. Running like I never had before. I don’t remember what I did, but I don’t feel like I should stick around to find out. A few seconds later, police sirens filled the air and I still ran. But I never stopped. There were things I didn’t know, or at least thought I didn’t know. I had to find out what was going on.

Six Word Short Story

This is one of the most powerful pieces of writing I have ever read. And it is only six words! Apparently, Ernest Hemingway and his friends were at a bar, drinking one night. Hemingway, as great of a writer he was (and drunk at that moment), made a bet with his friends. He told them that he could write an entire story in only six words. They laughed at him and told him that it wasn’t possible, but they accepted the bet anyway (probably because they wanted the money). So Hemingway gets a piece of paper, writes down six words, and shows his friends this:

“For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.”

His friends were shocked, and I am pretty sure it was hard not to cry. So Hemingway (I assume) won the bet.

The reason why this is so powerful is because you can read it and imagine an entire backstory in your head. You don’t know exactly what happened, but you can probably make up an idea. Now, I challenge YOU to write your own six word short story. It can be anything. Below is my own “story.”

“The people screamed. Everyone ran away.”

Good luck!

Green Dress and Tears

Bennie ran down the street. Barefoot, green dress and black hair caught in the wind, never had anyone said anything like that to her. Tears flooded down her eyes, washing the makeup out of her face. The words repeated themselves over many times, “I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to live with you. And most importantly, I don’t love you.” The tragic event a week before her wedding forced a knife into her soul. Her heart, as it fell into the pit of her stomach, felt beaten and bruised.
She ran and ran and ran, vividly remembering the day he proposed to her. They were on a ferry riding up the river; watching the beautiful city brightening up the night sky, the lights reflecting off the clear water. They were leaning against the rail, pointing out strange things that stood out of the normal crowd. Of course, they were in a foreign country, so everything looked strange to them. Then suddenly, he turned to look at him, but then he wasn’t there. Looking down, she gasped at him on one knee and saying, “Bennie, will you marry me?”
Then came today, almost six months later. They were at a party, and her and her fiancé started to argue in the backroom… it was then he said those awful things. When he showed his true colors. She ran out the door, running with her heals in her hand.
A loud honk filled her ears, and she suddenly came back from the past and looked up to see where the noise came from. Light instantly flooded her eyes and she fell into the cold abyss, floating away from the world and the pain it gives.

Judging What You See

As I walk along the sidewalks of my neighborhood, every once in a while I would look not at only the cars driving by, but the people inside the cars. Sometimes, when there are no trees or bushes blocking the sidewalk from the street view, I can’t help but try to hide myself, as I do not like strangers looking at me. Why? Well, for one thing, I decided to ride my brother’s electric scooter, and as a 15 year old who has been confused for a Junior and Senior in high school (and a person who can drive), people don’t find it very attractive (I guess I could say).
So I am sitting at a major intersection right after school has ended for most people, just trying to get to the library so I can get some of my favorite books, the third and fourth editions of Harry Potter. As you probably can imagine, the intersection was pretty crowded, and I couldn’t go all the way up to where the sidewalk meets the road. Instead, I sat there where the bushes can hide myself. The question is, why do I do that? Why do I try to hide myself from the public? I have one idea, and it is instinct. I think about over the years, a teenager’s instinct has changed into something entirely different. With all of the new things and new styles that affect our world today, older generations look down on ours, saying things that might as well be true. I have looked at some things myself to see if I can understand why older generations believe that, and I honestly say that I can only agree to them. Just look at what has changed our world’s point-of-view at things over the past few years. I mean, look at what people believe about homosexuality. Or drugs. Or abortion. Or anything, really. As most of those things really made an impact during our generation, people seem to think that it is our fault.
That is why I hide from the public. Because of what people believe, I hide myself from view of the drivers who pass me along the road. I guess that is why I look into their windows as well. I want to know if they are looking at me; and if they are, I want to know what they are thinking while they are looking at me. I want to know what goes through their minds, even if there is nothing going through at all. I want to know what their stories are. Just so I can understand why they believe what they believe. I just don’t want to be judged, you know?
That is another problem in this world. People judge others based on looks, and not what is in their hearts. That is another reason to hide. Another reason why a teenager’s instincts have changed. They hide wherever they can from the death stares of the people who look down on them, covering their faces like it wasn’t meant to be looked at. They eat their lunches in the school’s bathroom or a teacher’s classroom so that the bullies won’t get to them and ask for their lunch money. People get laughed at, and they shrink down in embarrassment and try to hide themselves from the laughs that throw themselves onto their minds’, making people believe things they shouldn’t.
The eyes of every human being believe in what they see just like the ear’s believe in what they hear. That is why I hide. So people will not look at me and judge me for what they see. But even if I hear what they think about me, I will push it away. I know those things are not true, and I will not give in to Society and their lies. But I only hope that what they say are lies.

Meet the Character: Christopher Johnson

Hello everyone! Today I am going to interview another character in my book, Chris, a friend that Camellia meets along her journey.

Me: Hello Chris! Welcome to the show. How are you?

Chris: Hello, and thank you for having me! Right now I am doing fine, but things have been a little stressful lately, you know?

Me: Really? Why is that?

Chris: Well, my brother was kidnapped not too long ago. I am glad I met Cam around the same time, because then I probably would still be at the village, trying to imagine life without my brother. I mean… I guess I can imagine it now, as it has been a while since I have last seen him. I just hope he is still alive.

Me: That’s unfortunate. Sorry about that, Chris. So anyway, how exactly did you meet Cam?

Chris: She and her friends came to my village while it was being attacked, and if they haven’t come before, I think things would have turned out differently. They really helped us, for sure. Then, after talking to her for a little bit, I discovered that her sister was kidnapped as well, so after talking a little more we decided that I should join the group.

Me: Making friends is very important, that’s excellent! Now, tell me about your weapon choice. What weapon do you use in battle?

Chris: I am really comfortable with a tomahawk. No, not the big battle axes some of the large warriors use, but the small, lighter axe that can be used for throwing. I don’t usually throw the tomahawk though, because it is the only one I have. But I find it very useful!

Me: Nice! One of my favorite weapons. I can not fight like that, of course, but tomahawks are very interesting. Now, last question before we close things off, is it true that you may have a small crush on Cam?

Chris: *blushes* Um… well… Gosh I don’t know what to say to that. Um…

Me: *laughs* If you don’t really want to answer that question, that is fine! Thank you Chris for being on the show, and I can’t wait to see you in action!

Chris: Thanks again for having me!

(Questions are now open to the readers, a.k.a the audience. Ask away!)